LIBRARY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


OIFST  OF" 


THOUGHTS  ON 


BOOKS  TO  READ 


—  AND" 


BOOKS  TO  BURN 


A  COMPILATION  IN  THREE  PARTS 

CONTAINING  EVIDENCE  THAT  PURE  MINDS  AND 

USEFUL  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT  THE  PRODUCT 

OF  THE  CHEAP  TRASHY  NOVEL. 


THOUGHTS  ON 

BOOKS  TO  READ 


BOOKS  TO  BURN 


A   COMPILATION  IN  THREE  PARTS 

PART    FIRST  A  TRUE   STORY  FOR    YOUNG 
MEN  AND  BOYS;  PART  TWO  A  REPRO- 
DUCED   LETTER    TO    A    YOUNG 
WOMAN;     PART    THIRD 
FOR   PARENTS 

CONTAINING  EVIDENCE  THAT  PURE  MINDS  AND 

USEFUL  PEOPLE  ARE  NOT  THE  PRODUCT 

OF  THE  CHEAP  TRASHY  NOVEL. 


COPYRIGHTED  1906 

BY 
C.  E.  BLAKEMAN. 


.   CTZ.-75 

Contents. 


PART  I. 
SECTION  I. 

Childhood  ........  11 

He  wearies  of  school     ......  12 

He  captures  the  prize  in  spelling 

Makes  the  last  attempt  at  attending  school         .  14 

SECTION  II. 

Killed  his  first  coon  .....  15 
An  unwilling  passenger  in  the  boat  .  .16 

Coon  hunting  one  evening  in  winter  .  .  17 
Treed  three  young  ones  .....  18 
Killed  two  and  decided  to  fall  a  large  stub  .  19 
Down  it  came  and  there  were  four  in  it  .  .  20 

SECTION  III. 

Starts  to  the  lumber  woods        .        .        .  .22 

First  night  at  a  hotel        .....  22 

Learned  how  they  dress  a  bear    .        .        .  .23 

Peeled  logs  and  ate  of  bear  meat  for  supper  .  24 

Hears  how  the  bear  was  killed     .        .        .  .24 

SECTION  IV. 

A  description  of  camp  life  ....  25 
Various  kinds  of  labor  performed  by  a  gang  of  men  26 
How  to  build  a  skidway  .....  27 
Discouraged—  Starts  for  home  ...  29 

154504 


SECTION  V. 

Hunting  work  with  a  brother       .        .        .  .30 

The  man  who  files  the  saws      .        .        .        .  31 

Where  he  lost  his  desire  to  keep  money       .  .    32 

Not  able  to  take  the  easy  job    .        .        .        .  33 

Cars  run  by  the  force  of  gravity       ...  34 

A  car  off  the  track        . 35 

Bill  wounds  a  deer 36 

SECTION  VI. 

A  disgraceful  affair— Men  act  like  dogs       .  .    37 

Kind  of  reading  matter  that  camp  men  use     .  38 

Brother  leaves  camp 38 

Some  of  the  dangers  of  camp  work        .        .  39 

The  word  scared  hardly  told  it    .        .        .  .40 

Work  in  the  dark 41 

Decides  to  leave  this  camp       .        .        .  .42 

SECTION  VII. 

Just  about  had  a  job,  but  lost  it        .        .        .  43 

Pawned  his  watch  and  went  to  Traverse  City     .  44 

Tom  Bennett  tells  about  the  drive    ...  45 

Describes  a  rollway 46 

SECTION  VIII. 

Goes  to  the  river       .        .        .        .        .  .        47 

Tried  to  get  better  pay  by  lying       .  .        .    48 

Eveing  in  a  river  camp      ....  .        46 

Fortunate  in  getting  a  good  peevy       .  .        .50 

The  up  river  trail 52 

Putting  timber  through  the  dam        .  .        .53 

First  morning  in  the  icy  water         .        .  .        55 


SECTION  IX. 

Canoe-riding,  in  the  past,  helps  out  .        .        .57 

Called  down  river  by  the  foreman    .  .        58 

An  accident  at  the  rollway        .  .        .        59 

Breaking  a  jam  on  the  drive        .  .        .        60-61 
An  unprecedented  remedy        ....        62 

Sore  feet  and  the  drive  finished    .  .        .        .64 

SECTION  X. 

Went  to  see  his  brother  again        .        .        .  65 

Bill,  the  filer,  kills  another  deer        .        .  .65 

Fourth  of  July  with  the  camp  men        .        ,  66 

Horrible  way  to  spend  the  evenings    .        .  .     68 

Camp  man's  hotel 69 

Early  morning  of  the  Fourth        .        .        .  .70 

SECTION  XL 

The  ox  teams 72 

Yoking  Tom  and  Bill 75 

Our  woodsman  named  by  the  foreman      .        .  76 

Felt  easier  when  the  team  was  chained       .        .  77 

They  would  kick .78 

The  chain  broke 79 

Rhedauksin  is  cheered  by  the  Swedes      .        .  80 

No  joke  at  first  but  funny  at  last        .        .        .  82 

A  repeater  loaded  with  tobacco        ...  83 

SECTION  XII. 

Met  a  gentleman  and  a  tough 

At  work  on  the  boom * 

Rode  his  last  load  of  logs  into  the  mill     . 
Started  west 


PART  III. 
SECTION  XXI. 

More  dire  effects  of  dime  novels         .        .        .  139 

More  evidence         .        .        .  .        .  141 

A  boy's  reading 142 

Literature  and  yourself 144 

Trouble  with  the  people       .        .        .        .        .  145 

Keeping  up  the  reading  habit         .        .        .  146 

What  American  girls  need        .        .        .        .  147 

Noble  ideals 148 

Value  of  good  books 149 

Scales  for  weighing  young  men       .        .        .  150 


- 

UNIVERSITY 

INTRODUCTION 

Many  years  ago  the  writer  noticed  s^reraT"  in- 
stances where  young  people  were  injured  by  the 
reading  of  sensational  novels.  One  of  the  parties 
referred  to  is  now  serving  a  twenty  years'  sentence 
in  a  state  penitentiary,  the  direct  result  of  reading 
accounts  of  tragedies  where  the  approving  light  of 
the  novelist  was  turned  on  the  scene;  and  every 
time,  since  his  conviction,  that  I  think  of  the  case,  I 
wish  to  help  warn  others  of  the  danger  and  the  non- 
sense in  devoting  one's  time  to  such  reading,  and 
for  over  fifteen  years  I  have  been  watching  for  a 
book  especially  adapted  and  entirely  devoted  to 
warning  people  young  and  old  of  the  necessity  of 
greater  care  in  the  selection  of  what  young  people 
read. 

I  have  inquired  repeatedly  at  the  book  stores 
and  watched  the  publishers'  lists  in  vain.  We  have 
scores  of  books  on  less  important  subjects,  but  none 
on  this  and  nearly  all  the  short  articles  touching  on 
this  important  subject  that  I  have  seen,  have  been 
in  the  deeply  religious  papers;  consequently  were 
-hidden  from  the  ones  most  in  need  of  suggestions  on 
this  line. 

And  now  having  waited  in  vain  for  a  score  of 
years,  and  acting  on  the  approval  of  a  large  number 
of  parents  whose  advice  I  have  personally  asked,  I 
have  grouped  together  in  this  book  all  the  valuable 
thoughts  that  I  have  been  able  to  secure.  I  have 
not  done  this  work  as  a  matter  of  choice,  but  be- 
cause no  one  else  would  and  I  now  submit  it  to  the 
use  of  all  interested  parties. 


^Presented  to 


PART  I. 

School  Days 

AND 

Lumber-Camp  Life 

I  was  born  in  Michigan  during  the  early  part  of  the 
sixties,  when  the  government  had  called  for  the  able 
men  to  leave  home  and  help  to  uphold  the  Union. 

During  the  two  following  years,  death  claimed  three 
out  of  our  family  of  nine,  leaving  my  mother  a  widow 
with  five  children  under  the  age  of  sixteen,  the  two 
older  ones  being  girls.  Mother  had  possession  of  a 
cheap  farm,  which  had  about  twenty-five  acres  im- 
proved. 

These  conditions  made  it  very  hard  for  mother  to 
provide  for  the  family,  and  as  I  consider  all  the  cir- 
cumstances, I  wonder  that  she  was  able  to  maintain  a 
home  at  all. 

The  school  house  was  one  mile  and  a  half  from  our 
home,  and  when  I  first  attended  the  summer  term  they 
were  just  building  the  railroad  that  runs  from  Allegan 
over  into  Ohio.  It  runs  just  at  the  side  of  the  school 
playground,  and  I  remember  more  about  the  building 
of  the  road  than  I  do  about  my  lessons  for  that  term. 
The  way  they  plowed,  shoveled  and  drew  the  dirt  to 
cut  through  a  hill  from  fifteen  to  twenty  feet  high  was 
wonderful  to  me.  The  earth  they  removed  was  used 
to  make  a  fill  across  a  small  swamp  that  had  provided 
a  skating  pond. 


12 

One  day  a  shoveler  made  the  mistake  of  slapping  a 
horse  which  was  in  his  way.  The  teamster,  a  large, 
strong  man,  at  once  by  a  dexterous  and  powerful  blow 
of  his  whip,  struck  the  shoveler  on  the  cheek,  cutting 
it  so  the  blood  flowed  down  his  chin.  Several  other 
-  incidents  of  a  repulsive  nature  occurred ;  and  I  had  no 
thought  that  I  would  ever  be  connected  with  camp 
work.  I  was  afraid  of  such  men.  But  we  cheered  when 
the  trains  went  puffing  by,  for  they  came  along  in  due 
time.  We  had  seven  months  of  school  in  a  year.  By 
the  time  I  was  old  enough  to  go  to  school  in  the  winter 
I  was  large  enough  to  work  for  wages  in  the  summer 
time,  for  the  snow  and  wind  had  much  to  do  with  the 
roads  in  those  years,  giving  us  a  mile  and  a  half  of 
snowbanks.  So  my  schooling  averaged  about  three 
and  a  half  months  each  year  from  the  time  I  was  six 
years  old  until  I  was  fourteen. 

I  had  then  grown  tired  of  some  features  of  school. 
I  will  say,  though,  for  the  justification  of  my  superiors 
in  school,  that  I  was  one  of  the  most  persistent  trappers 
of  the  coon,  mink,  muskrat  and  skunk,  and  sometimes 
I  could  not  get  all  the  musk  off  my  hands  before  reach- 
ing school.  However,  Michigan  fur  brought  the  high- 
est market  price,  and  for  a  coon  or  skunk  to  make 
tracks  in  the  snow  across  my  road  to  school  usually 
meant  for  him  to  lose  his  hide  and  me  to  pocket  the 
price  of  it. 

But  mother  always  sent  me  to  school  while  I  yet 
remained  at  home,  and  urged  me  to  diligently  apply 
myself  to  my  work  there.  The  teacher  once  offered  a 
prize  to  the  one  that  would  stand  at  the  head  of 


13 

the  spelling  class  the  most  times  during  that  term. 
This  gained  my  attention,  and  I  could  then  cross  a 
skunk  or  mink  track  on  my  way  to  school.  This  teacher 
unfortunately  shared  the  prevailing  sentiment  that  I 
was  an  inferior,  but  I  acquired  some  degree  of  inde- 
pendence, and  I  studied  just  as  I  ought  to  have  been 
doing  all  the  while,  and  ought  to  have  kept  on  doing 
until  I  had  graduated  from  a  high  school,  at  least. 
However,  hard  studying  was  not  in  vain.  When  the 
last  day  of  the  term  came,  and  the  exercises  of  the  day 
were  over,  all  of  us  were  wondering  about  the  prize. 
All  had  kept  close  tab  on  the  tally  sheet,  and  knew  that 
I  had  won  it.  I  sat  on  one  of  the  back  seats,  and  just 
before  dismissing  us,  the  teacher  came  down  the  aisle 
to  my  seat  and  whispered  in  my  ear,  saying,  "After 
school  you  come  to  my  desk  and  I  will  give  you  your 
prize/'  The  boys  sitting  close  to  me  at  once  began 
to  ask  in  whispers,  "What  did  she  say?"  I,  delighted, 
replied,  "She  says  she  has  got  something  for  me."  The; 
school  being  dismissed,  I  immediately  made  a  race  for 
the  desk.  The  teacher  handed  me  a  picture  thoroughly 
wrapped  in  a  light  brown  paper.  I  got  the  impression 
that  she  did  not  want  anyone  else  to  see  it,  so  I  grabbed 
my  cap  and  dinner  pail  and  was  off  for  home  in  half  the 
usual  time,  with  about  half  of  the  school  besieging  me 
for  a  look  at  the  picture.  I  got  out  doors  and  nearly  off 
the  school  grounds  when  they  collared  me  and  took  a 
look  at  it.  It  was  a  little  lithograph,  eight  by  ten 
inches,  costing  probably  ten  cents.  It  was  not  torn, 
and  I  took  it  home. 

I  made  one  more  attempt  at  going  to  school,  but  I 


14 

had  a  few  cheap  books  containing  stories  which  I  read 
and  reread  even  against  my  mother's  wishes.  This 
reading  of  stories,  of  which  mother  disapproved,  gave 
me  the  big  head  by  spells,  and  during  those  spells  I 
would  go  when  and  where  I  wanted  to.  The  following 
winter  I  tried  going  to  school  in  another  district.  I 
went  to  the  director  and  asked  what  he  would  charge 
to  let  me  come  one  term.  He  was  a  kindly-minded 
man,  and  said  I  might  come  for  one-half  dollar,  just 
enough  to  be  a  charge,  and  thus  maintain  the  law, 
which  did  not  permit  one  to  leave  their  own  school 
district  to  attend  in  another  without  a  recompense. 
The  director  was  running  a  sawmill,  which  was  at  the 
lower  end  of  a  long  mill  pond  made  by  damming  up  a 
creek  which  ran  through  part  of  my  trapping  ground. 
There  were  quite  a  number  of  planks  floating  in  the 
pond,  and  he  said  he  would  give  me  five  cents  apiece 
for  pulling  them  out  on  the  shore.  I  took  the  job,  and 
in  a  short  time  I  had  earned  as  much  as  he  had  charged 
me.  I  went  to  school  a  few  weeks,  but  worked  with  a 
sawing  machine  when  opportunity  came.  In  the  crew 
were  men  who  were  used  to  working  in  the  pine  log- 
ging camps,  and  in  their  company  I  lost  interest  in 
school,  and  never  attended  district  school  again.  Most 
of  the  lumber  camps  were  quite  a  distance  away,  and 
I  was  pretty  small  yet  to  think  of  doing  a  man's  work. 
But  my  sawing  machine  friends  read  novels  with  me> 
and  told  about  big  times  in  the  camps.  These  things 
had  an  influence  over  me.  I  ceased  studying,  and  read 
only  for  pastime. 


15 

SECTION  II. 

I  first  learned  to  trap  skunks  by  catching  those  that 
came  to  mother's  hen  house.  It  was  exciting  sport, 
and  the  skins  brought  cash.  Then  the  price  of  my  first 
furs  made  me  anxious  to  catch  more  game,  and  I  began 
a  campaign  against  skunks,  muskrats,  minks  and  coons. 
There  were  many  creeks  and  lakes  in  the  woods  and 
swamps  near  where  we  lived,  and  at  the  age  of  four- 
teen I  knew  them  well,  and  seldom  got  lost  in  the 
woods.  Fish  from  the  lakes,  black  squirrels  and  rab- 
bits from  the  woods  were  acceptable  to  mother,  and  she 
usually  let  me  hunt  as  much  as  I  cared  to.  I  do  not 
remember  mother  ever  buying  any  meat  except  pork, 
and  usually  that  in  small  quantities.  I  always  started 
trapping  for  furs  about  the  middle  of  October,  and  I 
remember  the  first  coon  that  I  ever  caught.  A  tiny 
island  in  the  middle  of  a  creek  right  by  the  lake  was  his 
unfortunate  landing  place.  I  ran  my  boat  ashore  and 
crossed  to  the  island  on  a  tamarack  pole.  He  straight- 
ened up  and  growled  like  a  small  dog,  and  the  amount 
of  work  it  took  to  kill  him  surprised  me.  He  was 
medium  sized,  and  weighed  seventeen  pounds,  and  his 
hide  brought  enough  to  buy  ammunition  for  several 
months.  I  had  acquired  the  art  of  catching  muskrats, 
and  often  would  start  for  home  with  all  I  could  carry 
of  green  rat  skins,  with  my  gun  and  light  ax  always 
making  part  of  my  load.  But  there  was  so  much  more 
excitement  about  hunting  coons  that  it  became  my 
choice  sport.  One  time  I  tried  to  take  a  large  coon 
home  alive.  He  weighed  about  twenty  pounds,  and 


16 

gave  me  battle  so  determinedly  that  I  gave  it  up,  after 
spending  about  an  hour  with  him,  and  only  took  his 
skin.  One  fall  a  friend,  by  the  name  of  William  Near, 
who  was  a  good  hunter  and  trapper  of  small  game,  and 
myself  went  in  as  partners.  We  first  went  north, 
where  there  were  some  deer,  and  after  hunting  several 
days  for  the  deer  that  came  and  destroyed  a  settler's 
sweet  corn,  we  began  to  conclude  that  it  would  be  more 
sport  and  more  profitable  to  hunt  coons,  and  I,  for  my 
part,  have  never  changed  my  mind  from  that  con- 
clusion, which  was  arrived  at  one  day  about  three 
o'clock,  at  which  time  we  sighted  a  settler's  house  and 
purchased  a  meal,  the  first  one  that  we  had  sat  down 
to  in  a  day  and  a  half,  as  we  had  been  lost  in  a  cedar 
swamp,  and  all  that  we  had  eaten  for  about  one  day 
was  a  roasted  partridge.  We  returned  to  my  old  trap- 
ping grounds  and  camped  in  the  woods  by  Snobble 
Lake  in  an  old  shanty.  We  decided  to  improve  upon 
the  usual  plan  of  killing  the  coons  as  soon  as  caught. 
So  we  made  a  large  box-like  cage  and  removed  them 
from  the  traps  into  it.  As  the  weather  grew  colder 
their  fur  became  better.  But  there  was  lots  of  resistance 
made  by  the  little  fellows  when  we  handled  them, 
which  gave  us  much  sport.  One  day  we  were  paddling 
along  the  west  shore  of  the  lake,  one  sitting  in  each 
end  of  the  boat,  when,  for  some  reason,  I  wished  to  go 
to  Will's  end  of  the  boat.  There  was  an  old  mother 
coon  chained  to  one  side  of  the  boat  at  about  the  mid- 
dle. She  had  about  two  feet  of  chain,  and  as  I  walked 
near  the  middle  of  the  small  boat  so  as  not  to  cause 
it  to  tip,  I  stepped  close  to  her,  and  she  made  a  spring 


17 

for  me,  and,  much  to  the  amusement  of  Will,  she  got 
me,  and  was  not  in  any  hurry  to  let  go.  I  jumped 
around  a  little,  nearly  putting  everything  overboard 
before  I  got  where  I  could  see  the  funny  side  of  it.  She 
snarled  as  she  landed  on  my  leg,  and  started  up  like 
a  cat  going  up  a  post.  I  also  was  going  some  about 
then,  but  the  chain  held  her,  and  thus  her  teeth  were 
pulled  out  of  my  overalls  at  the  back  of  my  leg.  There 
were  lots  of  such  little  incidents,  and  the  laugh  was  not 
always  on  me,  and  so  I  enjoyed  this  joke  with  him. 
I  now  had  no  mother  to  take  a  string  of  squirrels  to, 
and  none  to  warn  me  of  bad  company,  and  while  in 
rough  company  I  little  heeded  her  kind  words. 

We  needed  dogs  for  hunting  coons  at  night,  and  so 
I  bought  a  fine  black  and  tan  hound.  His  name  was 
Joe.  We  had  a  small  black  dog  for  rabbit  hunting. 
His  name  was  Mage.  And  a  friend  by  the  name  of 
Holton  had  a  fine  large  spotted  hound  that  was  an  ex- 
cellent coon  dog.  He  hunted  with  us  sometimes,  and 
we  had  lots  of  sport.  When  severe  weather  came  we 
quit  our  trapping  and  went  to  cutting  wood.  So  I 
sold  Joe,  as  I  had  no  way  to  take  care  of  him.  But  I 
learned  to  hunt  coons  without  a  dog.  I  will  give  an 
account  of  one  night's  hunt.  • 

One  evening  in  February,  when  there  was  a  mild 
atmosphere,  just  a  little  too  warm  to  freeze,  I  started 
out  with  a  friend  to  hunt  coons.  His  given  name  was 
Squire,  and  he  was  a  great  climber.  We  walked  through 
the  woods  about  a  mile  without  seeing  a  track,  though 
we  knew  that  coons  were  quite  plenty  in  these  woods. 
We  were  about  decided  to  give  it  up  and  go  home, 


18 

though  we  had  been  there  a  few  days  before  and  killed 
two.  Their  fur  was  prime  and  quite  valuable,  and 
Squire  said  to  me :  "I'll  go  up  there  on  that  hill  and 
look,  then  we  will  go  home.  You  wait  here/'  Presently 
he  whistled,  and  I  hurried  over  to  him.  He  stood  by 
the  trail  of  three  coons.  The  tracks  were  very  fresh, 
and  we  started  after  them.  They  went  by  an  old  red 
oak  stub,  and  apparently  went  up,  and  only  two  came 
down.  We  estimated  that  if  they  had  stayed  up  the  stub 
any  length  of  time  that  they  could  not  be  far  away, 
and  with  the  hope  of  making  them  tree  close  by,  we 
began  to  mimic  a  pair  of  hounds,  and  made  all  possible 
speed.  The  snow  was  about  ten  or  twelve  inches  deep, 
and  soon  we  saw  evidence  that  we  had  guessed  well, 
for  the  tracks  showed  just  where  the  coons  took  fright 
and  began  to  run  with  all  speed.  This  also  was  the 
place  for  us  to  nerve  up  a  little  more.  We  yelled  and 
tore  through  the  bushes,  making  every  possible  noise. 
The  coons  made  all  the  more  plain  a  trail  as  they 
hurried  faster.  We  knew  that  they  were  young  coons, 
and  had  come  from  a  den  not  far  away.  They  made 
small  tracks,  and  kept  right  side  by  side.  Old  coons 
never  travel  that  way.  They  soon  came  to  a  part  of 
the  woods  where  there  was  a  crust  on  the  snow,  as  a 
light  north  breeze  caused  it  to  be  cold  on  the  north 
side  hills,  so  the  snow  that  was  on  land  sloping  north 
had  a  crust  strong  enough  to  carry  them.  This  was 
unexpected  by  us,  and  our  ardor  abated  at  once,  but  we 
could  not  give  them  up  without  any  further  effort. 
They  could  not  climb  a  tree  without  shelling  off  small 
bits  of  bark  that  would  show  on  the  pure  white  snow, 


19 

and  we  circled  around  to  all  the  large  trees  near  by, 
going  partly  by  the  light  of  our  lantern,  but  more  by 
the  faint  moon.  Finally  we  discovered,  by  the  roots 
of  an  oak,  plenty  of  evidence  that  something  had 
climbed  the  tree.  It  was  only  about  sixteen  inches  in 
diameter,  tall  and  solid,  offering  no  winter  shelter  for 
coons,  or  even  squirrels,  and  nothing  having  climbed 
it  before,  there  was  a  great  quantity  of  bark  and  moss 
that  only  needed  a  touch  to  loosen  it,  and  the  snow 
was  just  covered  with  bits  of  bark.  We  were  positive 
that  our  game  had  tried  this  tree.  But  right  here  we 
had  to  observe  that  we  were  not  up  to  our  job  as  well 
as  a  hound,  for  he  could  have  told  whether  they  had 
gone  away  or  not.  We  lodged  a  small  tree  into  the 
oak,  and  Squire  went  up,  and  to  our  delight  found 
both  coons,  which  he  knocked  off  from  the  limbs,  and 
I  was  waiting  below  with  a  good  club  and  a  gun,  and 
killed  them  both.  We  did  not  stop  to  skin  them,  but 
carried  them  to  where  the  other  one  had  gone  up  the 
great  stub.  We  were  in  hopes  that  he  had  come  down, 
but  he,  no  doubt,  had  heard  the  noise  that  we  made 
after  the  other  two,  and  feared  to  do  so.  The  stub  was 
a  model  coon  tree,  about  four  feet  in  diameter  and  solid 
at  the  stump,  thirty  or  more  feet  high,  and  mostly 
hollow.  We  chopped  a  long  time.  It  was  hard,  and  we 
only  had  one  ax.  But  after  much  working  and  wishing, 
it  really  did  crack  a  little.  We  had  earned  the  little 
coon,  but  hoped  that  we  might  find  others  in  the  tree. 
Squire  had  taken  the  dangerous  places  after  the  other 
two,  and  now  it  was  my  turn  to  run  the  risk  of  getting 
hurt.  The  great  stub  would  hit  some  small  trees  and 


20 

knock  them  down,  thus  making  it  dangerous  out  near 
the  place  where  the  coon  would  come  down.  But  when 
the  tree  was  down  I  ran  around  the  top  and  stopped 
to  listen  and  look,  with  the  lantern  in  one  hand  and  a 
club  in  the  other.  Small  limbs  came  rattling  harm- 
lessly down,  making  quite  a  noise.  By  this  time  there 
was  a  little  crust  all  over  the  snow  that  made  a  noise 
whenever  a  small  limb  'hit  it.  It  was  near  morning, 
and  getting  cold.  This  was  in  our  favor,  for  no  coon 
could  leave  without  our  hearing  him  as  long  as  we  both 
kept  still.  Presently  I  spied  something,  and  made  for 
it.  It  ran,  and  so  did  I.  There  was  an  old  rail  fence 
close  by,  and  he  made  for  that.  A  coon  will  never  run 
on  the  ground  if  he  can  find  a  log  or  fence  that  runs  the 
direction  that  he  wants  to  go.  When  he  reached  the 
fence  I  was  so  close  after  him  that  he  did  not  want  to 
take  the  top  rail  and  follow  it,  as  they  usually  do.  He 
slipped  through,  and  I  jumped  over  after  him.  Then 
he  played  it  back  on  me  again.  That  time  after  I 
cleared  the  fence  I  set  the  lantern  down  on  the  snow 
and  took  both  hands  to  the  club.  He  was  a  very  large, 
tough  fellow,  and  took  lots  of  blows  before  he  gave 
out,  and  in  our  dodging  about  he  or  I  knocked  the 
lantern  over  and  broke  the  globe.  My  partner  had 
agreed  to  stay  at  the  stump  and  kill  any  that  came  that 
that  way.  I  yelled  to  him  to  watch  for  the  little  one, 
for  it  was  a  big  one  I  was  clubbing.  When  my  coon 
laid  still,  I  listened  and  we  could  not  hear  anything 
stir.  There  was  a  little  light  from  the  cloud-covered 
moon.  This,  added  to  the  snow  light,  made  it  easy  to 
see  anything  dark  if  it  moved.  I  went  to  the  top  of  the 


21 

crushed  shell  of  the  old  oak  stub  and  stood  on  the 
pieces,  and  listened.  I  could  hear  nothing,  but  there 
was  something  dark  right  close  to  me  that  attracted  my 
attention,  and  thinking  that  it  was  a  great  chunk  of 
the  broken  wood,  I  gave  it  a  careless  punch  with  the 
end  of  my  stick,  and  to  my  surprise  it  gave  a  bound  and 
a  snarl.  I  gave  chase,  and  soon  clubbed  him  down  near 
where  the  first  one  lay.  This  was  more  than  my  com- 
panion could  stand  to  see  me  having  all  the  fun  and  he 
left  his  post  and  came  down  hill  to  where  the  top  of 
the  old  stub  lay.  As  I  was  coming  back  from  finish- 
ing the  second  one  he  lifted  up  a  very  large  coon  and 
said,  "Did  you  kill  this  one?"  It  had  been  crushed  by 
the  side  of  the  log  which  fell  in  on  him,  and  we  at  this 
very  moment  saw  another  one  look  out  of  a  hole  in  the 
side  of  the  log  farther  toward  the  stump.  We  stopped 
up  the  hole  and  took  some  time  to  look  for  tracks  by 
the  aid  of  his  lantern,  as  it  was  possible  that  others 
might  have  got  away  while  I  was  making  so  much 
noise  after  the  two  that  I  killed.  No  tracks  were  to  be 
found  except  those  made  by  the  dead  ones,  and  we 
went  to  chop  out  the  one  that  we  had  seen  pull  his  head 
in  the  hole  in  the  log.  We  soon  found  that  he  had 
squeezed  out  of  a  long  crack  in  the  side  of  it.  We 
followed  to  the  butt,  and  there  were  his  four  tracks 
showing  where  he  hit  in  the  snow  and  jumped  a  few 
times  after  which  he  had  walked  carefully,  and  thus 
did  not  break  through  the  crust  which  was  now  quite 
stout  all  over  the  surface  of  the  snow.  We  spent 
some  time  on  him,  but  had  to  give  him  up,  and  by  the 
time  we  had  skinned  the  five  that  we  had  it  was  get- 


22 

ting  daylight.     Many  such  times  have  I  enjoyed  and 
for  me  it  is  far  ahead  of  hunting  large  game. 


SECTION  III. 

The  fall  of  seventy-eight  found  me  about  half  way 
between  home  and  the  lumber  woods.  I  had  worked 
all  summer  for  a  farmer,  and  in  harvest  time  had 
cradled  about  thirty  acres  of  wheat,  doing  just  as 
much  as  any  of  the  men  that  were  hired  by  the  day, 
though  I  worked  for  ten  dollars  a  month  and  they 
received  two  dollars  per  day.  This  convinced  me  that 
I  was  no  boy.  If  I  could  get  a  job  in  the  woods  I 
would  get  about  twenty  dollars  a  month,  so  when  I 
had  completed  my  six  months'  work,  for  which  term 
I  had  hired  out,  I  visited  mother,  and  then  packed  my 
grip  for  the  winter  camps.  I  took  the  G.  R.  &  I.  train 
from  Martin  to  Grand  Rapids,  then  the  D.  &  M.  to 
Ionia,  where  I  took  the  train  to  Stanton,  arriving 
there  in  the  evening.  This  was  the  first  time  I  ever 
stayed  at  a  hotel  over  night,  and  I  remember  that 
evening  quite  distinctly.  The  waiting  room  was  a 
barroom,  the  clerk,  a  bartender.  Two  men  that  were 
drinking  asked  him  to  drink  with  them.  He  said, 
"You  see,  my  eyes  are  sore — which  indeed  was  very 
noticeable — "and  the  Doctor  says  he  cannot  cure  them 
unless  I  stop  drinking,  but  when  they  get  well  I'll 
drink  again." 

Next  morning  in  company  with  two  others,  I  started 
out  to  find  some  camps  that  we  were  told  were  out 


23 

east  a  couple  of  miles.  We  easily  found  our  way  until 
we  came  to  a  place  where  the  roads  forked.  There 
was  a  rough  board  sign,  lettered — Sabin  and  Snow, 
Lower  Camp.  We  could  not  make  out  which  road 
would  lead  us  to  the  Lower  Camp,  for  the  sign  had 
been  nailed  on  a  tree  between  the  two  roads,  but  we 
took  the  one  which  led  to  the  right,  and  followed  it 
perhaps  a  mile,  and  then  came  in  sight  of  a  large  log 
building.  As  we  drew  nearer  to  the  camp,  for  it 
proved  to  be  Sabin  and  Snow's  lower  camp,  I  caught 
sight  of  something  that  engaged  my  whole  attention 
until  we  stood  by  the  side  of  the  building.  A  large 
pole,  resting  one  end  on  the  ground  and  the  other 
against  the  top  part  of  the  shanty — just  the  same  as 
farmers  sometimes  put  up  a  pole  to  hang  hogs  on  at 
butchering  time — held  a  large  black  bear.  It  was  the 
first  one  I  had  ever  seen,  and  a  man  who  evidently 
understood  his  business,  was  dressing  it  just  the  same 
as  one  would  dress  a  hog,  and  while  I  gazed  at  him 
he  took  out  the  lungs  and  looked  them  over  closely;  he 
made  a  careful  cut  with  his  knife,  then  inserted  his 
fingers  and  quickly  drawing  them  out,  he  held  up  a 
small  dark  object,  saying,  "there  it  is,  that's  what 
bothered  the  old  fellow."  It  was  the  lead  ball  that 
caused  the  bear's  death. 

Just  then  one  of  the  contractors  came  along,  and 
we  made  our  errand  known  at  once.  He  said  we 
might  all  of  us  go  to  work,  but  would  have  to  go  to 
the  other  camp.  So  we  hired  out  and  started  at  once, 
but  before  leaving  the  place  I  heard  him  say  to  an- 
other man — "Take  some  of  the  meat  over  to  the  other 


24 

camp,  for  if  we  don't,  the  boys  over  there  will  be 
jealous."  We  found  the  camp  without  much  difficulty, 
and  went  to  work.  I  knew  how  to  chop  and  saw,  and 
had  done  lots  of  it  for  one  of  my  age,  but  I  did  not 
know  how  to  get  the  right  job. 

These  contractors  had  to  peel  their  logs  before  skid- 
ding them,  and  that  is  hard,  disagreeable  work,  so 
there  was  great  lack  of  men  for  that  part  of  the  work, 
and  I  said,  "Yes,  I'll  do  that,  and  took  an  ax  and  a 
cant-hook  and  started  without  any  misgivings.  I  put 
in  the  rest  of  the  day  as  best  I  could.  Coming  in  at 
dark,  I  was  a  little  bit  surprised  at  the  appearance  of 
the  camp.  There  were  a  lot  of  men,  but  they  did  not 
seem  to  act  as  I  thought  men  would  be  likely  to.  I 
stood  back  out  of  the  way  for  safety  while  they  used 
the  wash-basin  and  comb,  then  I  ventured  to  make  use 
of  them,  too.  Presently  the  call  to  supper  sounded, 
and  another  something  new  occurred.  The  way  those 
fellows  went  to  supper  was  not  slow,  they  did  not 
behave  very  gentlemanly,  but  the  supper  was  eatable, 
especially  was  the  bear  meat  good,  which  had  been 
sent  over  as  ordered;  it  was  very  nice  indeed  and 
tasted  much  like  lean  boiled  pork.  After  supper  I 
heard  the  particulars  as  to  the  killing  of  the  bear,  how 
several  of  them  had  bothered  about  the  cook  shanties, 
coming  at  night  while  every  one  was  asleep  and  mak- 
ing a  muss  by  overturning  the  slop  pails,  and  once 
getting  a  tub  of  butter.  On  the  evening  before,  one  of 
the  men  stayed  awake  by  a  kitchen  window  to  watch, 
and  about  midnight  was  rewarded  by  the  appearance 
of  bears,  who  probably  smelled  food  in  the  kitchen,  for 


25 

one  stood  up  to  put  his  paws  into  the  window,  which 
was  open,  thus  giving  an  excellent  opportunity  for  a 
shot  at  the  heart,  but  in  the  quick  aim  the  mark  was 
missed  by  a  very  little,  but  struck  almost  as  sure  a  vital 
spot.  Then  all  the  hunting  spirits  turned  out  and 
chased  and  hunted  him  for  some  time,  finally  securing 
him  about  a  half  mile  from  camp.  All  this  was  inter- 
esting, still  not  being  accustomed  to  such  a  place  I  was 
quite  uncomfortable,  there  being  so  many — about 
forty-five,  I  think — of  the  roughest  of  ruffians,  accord- 
ing to  my  idea  of  men  at  that  time. 


SECTION  IV. 

The  night  wore  away,  and  the  next  morning  I  found 
myself  somewhat  sore  from  the  new  work,  which  was 
peculiarly  different  from  chopping.  In  chopping  one 
strikes  with  about  the  same  force  all  the  time,  as  the 
tree  or  log  stops  the  force  of  the  ax  at  just  about  the 
same  place  every  time,  while  in  peeling  a  log  it  is  quite 
different.  Pine  bark  is  quite  brittle,  and  especially  is 
this  the  case  with  the  white  pine,  this  being  the  kind  at 
which  we  were  working,  I  found  it  to  be  an  exceedingly 
difficult  job.  The  bark  being  quite  thick  and  stout,  re- 
quired a  pretty  hard  blow  in  order  to  force  the  ax 
along  any  distance  between  the  wood  proper  and  the 
inside  of  the  bark,  also  each  blow  must  be  pretty  well 
aimed.  Years  later  I  learned  the  art,  but  the  morning 
of  which  I  am  now  writing,  I  went  out  to  experience 
failure.  After  breakfast  all  hands  scattered  in  different 


26 

directions,  some  to  chop,  some  to  saw  and  others  to 
skid  logs.  I  went  with  the  same  peeling  gang  with 
which  I  worked  the  day  before.  I  watched  the  others 
as  they  started  in  at  one  end  and  noticed  that  they  took 
oft  i  strip  of  bark  just  the  width  of  an  ax  blade  the 
whole  length  of  the  log.  But  if  the  ax  trembled  any, 
it  either  stopped  short  in  the  real  timber  or  else  curved 
right  out  of  the  bark  and  the  force  of  the  ax  must  be 
stopped  by  the  same  hand  that  gave  the  blow,  thus 
giving  that  arm  about  double  the  amount  of  work 
when  the  ax  glanced  out.  I  found  that  the  effort  re- 
quired to  stop  the  ax  as  it  glanced  out  came  on  un- 
trained muscles,  and  before  night  my  arm  ached  badly 
and  became  weak.  It  was  the  rule  to  call  for  a  lift 
when  necessary.  The  two  other  peelers  working  near 
always  helped  me  with  little  hesitation  when  I  called, 
but  I  was  used  to  rolling  logs,  having  spent  many  days 
at  that  work  in  the  clearing  of  timbered  land  in  Ionia 
and  Allegan  counties,  where  in  those  days  most  of  the 
hard  wood  logs  were  rolled  together  and  burned,  most 
of  the  country  being  heavily  timbered  with  beech  and 
maple  trees.  I  disliked  to  call  for  help  often,  and  so 
overdid  in  lifting.  Sometimes  all  the  men  at  hand 
could  not  roll  a  log,  which  perhaps  lay  in  a  narrow 
hollow  or  between  stumps  or  trees.  All  hardwood 
trees  were  left  standing. 

A  gang  of  men  consisted  of  two  sawyers,  three 
peelers,  one  skidder  and  a  swamper.  Those  who  were 
born  and  live  on  the  prairie  perhaps  would  appreciate 
a  more  complete  description  of  their  work.  The 
sawyers  fell  the  trees  and  cut  them  up  into  logs  of 


27 

various  lengths.  A  crooked  tree  being  cut  into  short 
lengths,  and  straight  ones  into  longer  portions,  varying 
from  twelve  to  twenty  feet.  Next  come  the  peelers, 
taking  off  the  bark.  This  makes  the  logs  much  easier 
to  handle,  that  is  to  draw  along  on  the  ground  to  the 
skidways.  It  also  renders  them  proof  against  being 
worm  eaten  the  next  summer  in  the  woods  in  case  they 
should  be  left,  as  they  might  be  if  there  was  not  enough 
snow;  or  there  were  not  teams  enough  to  draw  them 
out  to  the  river  on  sleighs.  The  bark  all  being  off,  also 
makes  them  easier  to  handle  in  the  river  after  the  log 
drive  starts  in  the  spring,  for  they  were  to  be  driven 
clown  the  river  to  the  mills  below  to  be  sawed  into 
lumber.  Close  after  the  peeling  men  comes  the 
swamper,  wrho  cuts  away  all  the  brush  and  trash  and 
windfalls,  thus  making  a  road  from  the  logs  to  the 
skidway.  A  skidway  is  situated  by  the  side  of  the 
hauling  road  which  leads  to  the  river  or  mill,  and  is 
built  by  clearing  a  space  about  fifty  by  one  hundred 
feet  or  more,  at  the  side  of  the  road,  usually  a  place  is 
selected  that  descends  toward  the  road,  then  two  very 
tall  slim  trees  are  chosen  by  sometimes  going  far  into 
the  woods  to  find  the  best.  The  skidder  tries  to  get 
the  mten  or  twelve  inches  at  the  base,  and  about  fifty 
or  sixty  feet  long,  and  they  take  something  that  ap- 
proaches these  dimensions,  not  usually  finding  the 
ideal.  There  must  be  two  of  these  skids  for  each  skid- 
way;  they  are  laid  lengthwise  of  the  cleared  space 
about  seven  or  eight  feet  apart,  large  ends  close  to 
where  will  be  the  sleighs  that  are  to  draw  the  logs 
away  sometime  later.  This  skidder  brings  his  oxen 


28 

along  the  road  made  by  the  swamper  to  the  logs, 
hitches  to  them,  then  the  cattle  play  their  part,  usually 
doing  it  in  a  way  that  deserves  something  beside  the 
goadstick.  They  are  piloted  by  the  driver  to  the  skid- 
way  the  first  time,  and  after  that  a  good  yoke  of  oxen 
that  have  spent  one  winter  in  the  woods  will  take  a 
common  sized  log  to  the  skidways  alone  if  the  road 
is  straight  and  smooth  enough  so  the  log  will  not  catch 
against  knolls,  roots  or  projecting  logs.  Arriving  at 
the  skidway  they  must  be  carefully  driven  across  the 
skid  lest  the  log  shall  displace  the  skids.  Once  the 
log  is  partly  on  each  skid  the  cattle  are  unhitched  and 
the  log  rolled  along  on  the  skids  to  the  front  end  and 
the  first  one  is  firmly  blocked,  the  rest  being  rolled 
against  it.  The  bottom  course  of  logs  is  then  covered 
by  another,  and  so  on  up  until  the  logs  are  piled  quite 
high.  This  is  called  decking  them  up,  they  being 
rolled  on  by  the  aid  of  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  a  decking 
line — which  is  a  very  long  rope  or  light  chain — by  the 
aid  of  which  the  team  can  move  a  log  that  is  fifty  or 
one  hundred  feet  away.  In  decking  up  the  logs  there 
are  usually  two  men  beside  the  teamsters.  They  are 
called  canthook  men  because  they  use  canthooks  all 
the  time.  It  was  the  oxen  that  helped  me  out  some- 
times in  peeling  those  logs,  when  men  and  canthooks 
could  not  turn  a  log  the  teamster's  help  was  called  for. 
Lumber  woods  oxen  are  usually  of  the  best  quality, 
and  when  this  team  was  hitched  to  my  log  they  rolled 
it  right  over. 

By  the  time  the  sun  was  getting  low  the  second 
evening  of  my  work  as  a  log  peeler,  the  other  men 


29 

noticed  that  I  was  trying  to  do  my  part,  and  spoke  to 
me  quite  encouragingly,  though  I  could  not  help  see- 
ing that  my  logs  looked  rougher  than  theirs,  as  I  had 
cut  into  the  wood  more  times  than  they,  for  they 
being  used  to  it  made  theirs  look  very  smooth.  At 
quitting  time  I  was  completely  tired  out  and  very 
glad  to  stop  work. 

The  evening  passed  much  the  same  as  the  previous 
one.  The  man  who  killed  the  bear  at  the  lower  camp 
came  in  early  in  the  evening  on  his  way  to  Stanton 
with  the  hide.  He  spread  it  out  on  the  floor  and  gave 
us  all  a  chance  to  see  it.  During  the  evening  much  of 
the  conversation  of  the  men  was  about  bears  and 
hunting.  This  of  course,  interested  me,  what  I  could 
hear  of  it,  but  I  kept  back  a  little  from  the  main  crowd, 
as  they  were  too  rough  for  me.  Finally  bed  time, 
then  morning  came  and  I  found  myself  so  sore  and 
lame  that  I  could  not  work  at  all.  This  made  me 
ashamed  of  myself.  I  had  thought  I  could  do  a  man's 
work  in  the  woods  and  draw  full  pay.  Instead,  here  I 
was  laid  up  the  first  thing,  and  only  a  laughing  stock 
for  the  whole  camp.  I  could  not  reconcile  myself  to 
these  strange  big  ruffians  and  I  was  sure  they  would 
make  it  intolerable  for  me  if  I  stayed  in  the  shanty  to 
rest  up  and  get  over  my  lameness,  so  I  just  got  up  from 
breakfast  and  started  for  home  without  seeing  the  pay- 
master or  any  one  else.  When  I  got  back  where  I  was 
acquainted  I  cut  wood  and  used  the  ax  and  saw  just 
about  as  much  as  I  would  have  done  if  I  had  known 
how  to  hire  out  for  that  kind  of  a  job  in  the  camp  at 
Stanton.  A  little  lack  of  knowledge  was  all  that  caused 


30 

me  to  lose  the  job  in  camp  where  I  would  have  drawn 
about  twice  as  much  pay  as  I  got  at  cutting  wood. 


SECTION  V. 

About  the  middle  of  July,  1880,  in  company  with 
another  man,  I  was  traveling  a  lonely  road  through 
the  dense  pine  woods ;  nearly  all  day  we  had  walked 
side  by  side.  He  was  an  experienced  denizen  of  the 
"North  Woods"  about  twenty-six  years  of  age,  and 
a  man  weighing  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds, 
about  five  feet,  seven  inches  in  height,  with  brown 
hair  and  blue  eyes,  and  an  ugly  red  mustache. 

I  had  come  to  the  heart  of  the  pinery  to  find  him.  We 
had  never  been  together  much  after  I  was  five  years 
of  age,  but  he  was  my  brother.  We  crossed  from 
Sherman,  on  the  Manistee  river,  toward  Cadillac,  look- 
ing for  work.  A  little  after  dark  we  arrived  at  T.  D. 
Lillie's  camp,  thirteen  miles  northeast  of  Cadillac,  and 
the  foreman  said  "yes,  I  can  give  you  a  job  if  you  can 
saw  logs."  We  were  glad  when  asked  if  we  had  been 
to  supper,  and  were  soon  busy  satisfying  our  appetite, 
in  the  cook  shanty.  The  cook  was  a  large  man  by  the 
name  of  Shafer.  He  sat  reading  while  we  ate  our  sup- 
per, turning  once  to  ask  where  we  were  from. 

The  table  at  which  we  sat  was  arranged  for  sixty 
men,  and  there  was  another  just  like  it,  the  plates  were 
lined  along  the  edges,  showing  that  there  were  about 
one  hundred  men  to  take  meals  there,  this  being  an 


31 

unusually  large  camp.  When  supper  was  over  we 
entered  the  men's  shanty. 

This  was  the  largest  log  building  that  I  had  ever 
entered,  being  perhaps  forty  by  sixty  feet.  It  was 
early  bedtime  and  many  of  the  men  were  now  lying  in 
their  bunks,  of  which  there  were  enough  to  accom- 
modate about  one  hundred  and  thirty  men.  My 
brother  had  the  shanty  way,  and  we  were  not  noticed 
by  very  many.  One  man  in  particular  got  my  atten- 
tion. He  was  perhaps  forty-five  years  or  more  of  age, 
easily  six  feet  in  height,  large  boned  and  his  step  was 
peculiar,  on  account  of  a  weak  ankle  over  which  he 
wore  an  iron  brace  outside  of  his  boot,  giving  him  a 
peculiar  gait.  He  was  the  filer,  the  man  that  filed  the 
saws  for  all  of  the  sawyers,  who  were  cutting  logs. 
We  were  noticed  by  him  on  account  of  the  fact  that 
we  were  going  to  cut  logs  and  would  come  continually 
in  contact  writh  him.  My  brother  soon  had  his  good 
will  and  he  was  inclined  to  be  friendly  from  the  first 
evening  in  camp.  His  name  was  Bill  Harrington. 
When  the  foreman  sung  out  "nine  o'clock,"  everyone 
turned  in.  I  had  said  very  little,  preferring  to  keep 
quiet,  and  not  show  by  conversation  that  I  was  a 
greeny. 

There  was  a  board  bench  running  all  the  way  around 
the  shanty  just  at  the  edge  of  the  lower  bunk,  and 
there  were  three  tiers  of  bunks.  Card  playing  had 
been  the  pastime  during  the  evening.  One  other 
thing  was  noticeable — it  was  the  quietness  of  so  large 
a  number  of  men.  In  this  country  the  men  were  those 
who  followed  camp  life  the  year  around,  and  they  are 


32 

a  different  class  from  those  farmers  and  farm  boys  who 
go  into  camp  for  the  winter  and  then  back  to  the 
farm.  These  men  conversed  more  in  an  undertone, 
loud  words  were  an  indication  of  blows.  They  played 
cards,  but  for  a  stake  of  some  kind  much  of  the  time. 
In  the  course  of  time  I  became  more  acquainted  with 
them  and  found  that  there  were  fugitives  from  several 
lands.  Some  went  to  justice  from  this  camp,  and 
some  that  ought  to  have  gone  escaped.  One  old  man 
by  the  name  of  Lawrence  from  near  Hastings  was  the 
best  singer  and  the  worst  drunkard  in  the  camp ;  the 
rest  were  mostly  bidding  fair  to  prove  themselves  his 
equal  later  on,  at  one  specialty  or  the  other.  The  idea 
of  saving  money  hardly  seemed  to  occur  to  these  men, 
and  somehow  among  them  I  lost  my  desire  to  keep  my 
money.  When  working  among  the  farmers  I  saved 
the  most  that  I  earned  and  in  a  year  from  the  time  that 
I  began  to  work  in  this  camp  I  had  used  all  that  I 
earned  and  all  that  I  had  saved  before  that  time. 

Morning  came  and  we  started  to  cutting  logs;  my 
brother  was  perfectly  at  ease.  He  was  a  good  judge 
of  the  timber;  some  was  rotten,  which  was  usually 
called  punkey.  I  was  quite  good  at  the  end  of  the 
saw,  and  drew  full  pay,  twenty-six  dollars  per  month, 
and  that  was  as  much  as  anyone  drew.  At  first  I  did 
not  like  these  men,  and  at  last  there  was  little  friend- 
ship in  our  acquaintance.  I  chewed  tobacco  contin- 
ually, and  it  gave  me  quite  a  good  standing  as  a  camp 
hand. 

Most  of  the  time  during  the  middle  of  the  day  we 
could  keep  in  the  shade,  and  this  made  it  quite  toler- 


33 

able,  but  the  pitch  oozed  out  of  the  pine  logs  and  made 
the  saw  run  hard. 

One  day  Mr.  Lillie  said :  I  want  a  man  to  scale  logs 
at  the  rollway.  That  was  a  job  that  in  a  week's  time 
would  not  require  as  much  real  labor  as  we  were 
doing  in  one-half  day.  How  I  did  wish  that  it  was  pos- 
sible for  me  to  say  that  I  could  do  that,  but  I  had  no 
education  to  speak  of,  and  could  not  do  it.  Another 
man  that  was  swamping  after  us  said  "I  can  do  that/' 
and  he  got  the  job.  He  was  not  any  brighter  than 
many  of  the  rest  of  us,  but  he  had  acquired  a  common 
education  and  could  do  any  simple  thing  like  scaling 
logs.  Things  like  this  made  me  feel  ugly,  but  I  was 
getting  used  to  it  now.  I  had  missed  a  chance  to 
work  in  a  store  for  a  country  storekeeper  by  the  name 
of  Hewitt  because  I  was  not  good  at  figures.  The 
logs  that  we  cut  the  first  month  or  so  were  skidded 
right  to  the  rollway  and  towed  across  the  lake  to  the 
saw  mill.  One  day  we  got  orders  to  move  to  a  distant 
part  of  the  woods,  where  a  new  tramway  had  been 
built.  The  cars  were  soon  to  be  started  and  there 
was  some  speculation  in  camp  about  who  would  be 
the  brakeman.  The  camp  was  right  by  the  lake  about 
five  rods,  I  think,  from  the  water,  and  perhaps  it  was 
twenty  rods  along  the  shore  from  it  to  where  the  tram- 
way ended  out  over  the  water  in- such  a  depth  that  the 
logs  when  rolled  off  the  cars  would  float  away  in  the 
boom.  The  boom  is  made  by  chaining  the  ends  of 
very  long  logs  or  whole  tree  trunks  together  and 
stretching  them  across  a  body  of  water,  fastening  them 
to  opposite  shores,  or  stringing  them  around  in  a  cir- 


34 

cular  form  to  be  filled  with  logs.  The  other  end  of 
this  tramway  was  on  a  high  hill  over  a  mile  back 
in  the  woods,  and  the  plan  was  to  have  the  cars  run 
by  the  force  of  gravity.  There  were  other  small  hills 
on  the  line  between  the  high  one  and  the  lake,  so  they 
must  come  down  the  farther  hills  with  force  enough  to 
carry  them  up  the  next,  and  so  on  to  the  lake.  A 
rather  uncommon  and  dangerous  plan.  It  would  re- 
quire a  brakeman  for  each  car  and  some  teams  to  draw 
back  the  empty  cars.  The  track  was  made  of  square 
timbers  instead  of  iron  rails,  and  proved  to  be  quite 
troublesome.  Not  many  were  anxious  for  the  job  of 
braking  the  cars  down  from  the  big  hill,  though  the 
rest  of  the  way  it  was  not  very  dangerous,  but  there 
were  enough  volunteers  to  operate  them,  and  several 
gangs  were  set  to  cutting  and  skidding.  We  got  orders 
to  work  on  the  big  hill.  This  gave  us  a  long  walk  and 
always  made  us  among  the  last  to  reach  the  camp.  I 
disliked  this,  and  so  one  evening  when  we  had  picked 
up  our  tools  for  the  night  and  were  almost  out  to  the 
skidway,  I  said  to  my  brother,  "There  is  a  car  just 
ready  to  go  in ;  let's  climb  on  and  ride,  some  of  the  rest 
are  getting  on/7  but  he  said  "O,  I  guess  we  had  better 
take  a  little  more  time  and  walk  it."  There  were  acci- 
dents more  or  less  serious  almost  every  day,  but  I 
was  a  little  more  tired  than  he,  and  would  have  risked 
it  anyway,  only  I  did  not  wish  to  leave  him  behind,  so 
I  decided  to  walk,  and  indeed  it  was  very  fortunate  for 
me  that  he  so  advised.  There  were  two  other  sawyers 
on  the  car  as  it  went  over  the  brow  of  the  hill.  The 
brakeman  stood  about  midway  of  the  car  and  managed 


35 

the  brake  lever  by  the  aid  of  a  rope  attached  to  the 
end  of  it.  They  usually  held  the  speed  down  at  the  top 
of  the  hill,  and  when  down  the  incline  to  about  level 
with  the  top  of  the  hill  ahead,  they  threw  off  the  brake 
and  let  it  go  full  force,  which  would  carry  it  up  the 
next  grade.  This  brakeman  made  the  first  rise  and 
over  that  hill  at  an  unusual  rate  of  speed.  At  the  bot- 
tom of  that  hill  was  a  slight  curve  in  the  track,  and  the 
car  jumped  the  track  at  this  place.  It  was  loaded  with 
car  sill  logs,  which  were  cut  thirty  feet  long  and  were 
sawed  to  order  for  freight  car  builders.  We  had  walked 
down  the  large  hill  and  up  the  next,  and  as  our  faces 
came  above  the  top  we  could  see  down  to  the  bottom, 
and  it  was  a  shocking  sight  that  met  our  eyes.  The 
car  and  the  logs  were  a  confused  mess  out  in  the  edge 
of  the  woods.  None  of  the  men  were  killed,  but  they 
were  a  sorry  looking  lot.  At  first  we  thought  one  man 
was  dead.  We  carried  him  to  camp  and  a  team  was 
sent  to  take  him  to  the  hospital  at  Cadillac,  where  he 
recovered.  I  think  two  others  were  bruised  and 
scratched  pretty  badly.  I  kept  clear  of  the  cars  after 
that. 


SECTION  VI. 

One  morning  Bill  was  filing  the  saws  as  usual  at 
the  side  of  the  shanty  about  nine  o'clock,  when  he 
heard  a  hound  away  in  the  distance.  Bill  was  inter- 
ested at  once,  and  when  he  heard  the  baying  coming 
gradually  nearer  and  steadily  increasing  at  just  the 


36 

same  rate,  he  knew  that  a  deer  had  been  chased  until 
its  wind  was  getting  short  and  he  had  headed  for  the 
lake,  which  a  deer  will  always  do  when  he  feels  badly, 
as  the  water  is  their  place  of  retreat.  Bill  seized  a  gun, 
of  which  there  were  plenty  in  camp,  and  made  for  the 
woods  up  the  shore.  He  knew  the  runways  and 
showed  himself  a  hunter  by  guarding  the  very  runway 
which  the  deer  came  in  on,  but  he  shot  a  little  too 
quick  and  hit  the  deer  on  the  shoulder  only,  breaking 
the  shoulder  blade,  thus  permitting  the  deer  to  land 
himself  in  the  lake,  where  he  kept  himself  afloat  until 
they  reached  him  by  the  use  of  a  boat  from  the  boom 
and  finished  him  with  an  ax.  My  brother  was  going 
put  of  camp  that  day  and  we  were  at  the  shanty  soon 
after  the  deer  was  landed.  It  was  a  fine  specimen,  a 
five-year-old  buck,  and  his  antlers  were  very  perfect. 
When  I  saw  how  fine  they  were  I  asked  Bill  what  he 
would  take  for  them.  He  studied  a  moment  and  said — 
"Well,  if  I  were  to  take  them  out  to  Cadillac,  I  could 
get  five  dollars  for  them,  but  if  you  boys  want  them 
you  can  have  them  for  two.  He  was  right,  I  thought, 
so  took  him  up  right  away.  Bill  was  starting  to  skin 
the  animal  when  the  man  who  helped  with  the  boat  in 
landing  the  deer  came  up — his  work  was  on  the  boom, 
he  had  a  family  and  lived  in  a  little  house  near  camp. 
He  took  out  his  knife  and  was  going  to  help  skin  the 
deer,  when  Bill  said  he  did  not  care  for  any  help.  This 
made  Steve  mad,  and  he  said  "what  part  am  I  going 
to  have?"  This  was  a  little  surprise  to  Bill,  for  he  had 
not  thought  Steve  would  expect  anything  more  than 
the  fun  of  landing  the  deer.  Bill  knew  him,  but  knew 


37 

him  better  very  soon.  After  a  little  he  said,  "I  don't 
know  but  the  owner  of  the  dog  will  be  along,  and  if  so, 
he  will  take  the  hide,  and  I've  just  promised  the  horns 
to  these  boys."  At  that  Steve  could  not  wait  for  Bill 
to  finish  his  remarks,  but  began  to  curse  him,  and  said 
that  he  had  intended  to  take  the  horns  himself.  Bill 
was  not  so  quickly  riled  and  added,  "you  have  a  family 
and  here  is  the  venison ;  you  can  have  it  all  if  you  wish. 
But  Steve  would  not  reason  about  it  at  all,  and  was 
bound  to  provoke  Bill  and  get  him  to  fight  him,  so 
continued  to  call  him  insulting  names.  Evidently  he 
was  more  anxious  for  a  fight  than  for  any  part  of  the 
deer.  Bill  was  always  slow  about  everything,  but  I 
was  surprised  at  the  time  and  provocation  that  it  took 
to  get  him  angry  this  time.  It  was  more  than  evident 
that  he  did  not  want  to  fight.  Steve  was  a  favorite  of 
the  foreman  and  was  himself  boss  over  the  boom  gang 
that  towed  the  logs  across  the  lake.  The  rule  in  camp 
is  when  two  men  fight  so  that  one  is  laid  up,  one  or  the 
other  is  discharged.  This  is  the  only  way  a  contractor 
can  suppress  such  a  practice.  Biir  had  a  job  that  was 
hard  to  get,  and  he  did  not  want  to  lose  it.  But  Steve 
started  away  in  a  state  of  great  contempt,  and  having 
gone  five  or  six  rods  turned  and  dared  Harrington. 
Bill  forsook  his  good  sense  and  stuck  his  knife  in  a 
board  by  the  deer  and  met  Steve  in  a  smooth  place.  I 
deem  it  best  not  to  give  space  for  the  details.  Bill  was 
a  real  friend  to  us  and  we  hated  to  see  his  face  cov- 
ered with  blood  and  him  slowly  getting  worsted.  Fin- 
ally my  brother  stopped  them  at  the  request  of  Mrs. 
Helmer,  who  had  learned  of  the  trouble  and  came 


38 

running  from  their  shack  beside  one  in  which  Mr. 
Lillie's  family  lived,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away. 
The  foreman  saw  the  fight  and  was  displeased  with 
the  interference.  He  wanted  it  finished  and  made  some 
remarks  about  it  to  my  brother,  who  went  home  and 
never  returned  to  work.  Such  scenes  of  vicious  en- 
counters were  very  common  in  all  camps  where  I 
worked  and  they-  are  the  result  both  direct  and  indirect 
of  the  reading  and  conversation  that  is  made  use  of 
among  camp  laborers. 

The  most  sensational  novels  and  the  illustrated  ac- 
counts of  the  brutalizing  prize  fights  both  tell  how  to 
perform  with  the  fists  and  approve  of  the  practice, 
and  the  person  who  is  given  to  an  interest  in  them  will 
be  the  most  apt  to  make  the  mistake  of  practicing  in 
this  way  when  provoking  people,  annoy  and  abuse 
them.  Very  little  is  read  by  the  average  camp  hand 
that  tends  to  make  him  better,  and  with  corrupting 
books  and  men  to  lead  him  downward  there  is  little 
chance  for  a  young  man  to  improve  or  even  hold  his 
own  while  following  such  a  life.  It  was  harder  for 
me  now  that  my  brother  was  not  with  me.  He  had 
always  aimed  the  trees  where  they  would  fall  to  the 
best  advantage.  Now  I  had  to  take  the  responsibility, 
and  got  into  more  danger,  having  several  narrow 
escapes  from  bad  accidents.  I  will  give  an  account  of 
two  which  will  serve  to  show  the  risks  taken  by  all 
the  men. 

One  day  there  was  urgent  need  of  a  swamper  for 
one  of  the  skidding  teams,  and  as  there  were  plenty  of 
logs  cut  I  was  told  to  go  and  swamp  for  the  skidder. 


39 

I  had  seen  how  it  was  done  by  the  men  following  after 
-us,  and  got  along  with  it  nicely,  until  after  a  while  we 
needed  a  short  skid  for  decking  up  a  few  logs.  I 
walked  hurriedly  out  into  the  woods,  probably  six 
or  seven  rods,  before  seeing  anything  that  I  consid- 
ered suitable,  then  finding  a  little  tree  that  would  fur- 
bish what  we  wanted  I  hurriedly  cut  it  down  and 
was  trying  to  cut  it  off  and  bring  it  to  the  skidder  in 
the  least  possible  time,  for  these  logs  were  being  hauled 
as  fast  as  we  could  skid  them  up.  All  at  once  I  heard 
the  pop,  pop,  that  comes  from  the  breaking  of  a  large 
tree  at  the  stump  when  it  starts  to  fall,  and  the  cus- 
tomary yell  "Timber"  from  the  sawyers.  They  had 
failed  to  give  the  warning  as  soon  as  they  ought.  The 
skidder  sitting  on  the  logs  waiting  for  me  now  took 
in  the  situation.  The  tree  was  a  very  large  one,  a 
white  pine,  and  was  aimed  directly  at  me.  I  had  to 
look  to  see  whether  I  was  in  danger  or  not  and  was 
a  little  slow  about  it  on  account  of  my  own  way  of 
giving  the  timber  yell.  If  I  could  not  tell  whether 
anyone  was  in  the  way  or  not  I  began  to  yell  long  be- 
fore the  tree  was  ready  to  fall,  but  if  I  could  see  plainly 
in  the  direction  by  tree  was  going,  and  no  one  was 
there  we  would  not  yell  until  the  tree  started.  Saw- 
ing on  a  stump  takes  one's  wind  and  he  does  not  care 
to  waste  much  on  noise,  but  all  timber  cutters  were 
under  strict  orders  to  give  the  timber  cry  under  pen- 
alty of  being  discharged  for  failure  to  do  so.  As  I 
looked  around  to  see  which  way  the  tree  was  going  the 
skidder  yelled,  "come  out  of  that."  I  could  not  tell  as 
quickly  as  he.  If  the  tree  top  had  started  sideway 


40 

from  me  it  would  have  been  quickly  discernable,  but 
in  falling  straight  toward  me,  it  was  harder  to  dis- 
tinguish the  motion.  There  were  several  trees  between 
the  sawyers  and  me;  this  not  only  hid  us  from  each 
other,  but  added  much  to  my  danger.  I  was  somewhat 
noted  for  walking  and  running,  and  now  my  legs 
served  me  well,  as  I  caught  the  idea  of  danger  from 
the  skidder,  really  more  than  from  what  I  could  see,  or 
the  yell  of  the  sawyer,  my  mind  was  on  him  as  I  ran. 
It  was  not  a  question  of  where  I  wanted  to  go,  but 
where  I  could  run,  for  in  some  places  there  lay  brush 
and  logs.  As  I  went  the  skidder  continued  to  shout 
run,  run,  with  increasing  emphasis,  which  showed  that 
the  danger  was  not  getting  less.  I  had  many  times 
seen  how  a  large  tree  would  knock  down  several 
others,  and  had  this  in  mind  as  I  ran.  I  had  to  run  the 
way  the  tree  came,  and  when  it  struck  the  ground 
behind  me  a  gust  of  wind  and  leaves  shot  past  me 
and  the  ground  shook  under  my  feet,  and  still  there 
was  a  tearing  and  rattling  overhead.  I  did  not  dare 
to  look  up  for  fear  I  might  stumble.  Small  hardwood 
trees  came  down  on  both  sides  like  whips,  coming 
with  force  borrowed  from  the  large  pine  in  addition 
to  their  own  weight,  but  fortunately  they  all  missed 
me.  To  say  that  I  was  scared  when  I  reached  a  place 
of  safety  would  hardly  express  my  feelings. 

Another  incident  somewhat  similar  to  the  one  just 
mentioned  occurred  about  midwinter,  or  at  any  rate 

when  there  was  a  deep  snow.  Our  work  was  now  at 
a  distant  part  of  the  woods,  and  the  logs  were  drawn 
on  sleighs,  the  days  were  short  and  we  were  supposed 


41  V^  c    f  ,roB^ 

tQ  be  in  the  woods  and  ready  to  begin  at  daylight.  It 
often  snowed  at  night  and  covered  everything  up. 
One  evening  we  notched  several  trees  so  they  would 
fall  right  and  left  them  to  be  finished  in  the  morning. 
The  next  morning  it  was  quite  a  little  time  before 
daylight  when  we  reached  our  place  of  work.  We  dug 
out  our  tools  from  under  cover  of  logs  and  brush.  We 
had  one  saw,  two  axes,  several  small  wedges  and  an 
eight  foot  pole  for  measuring  the  trees  into  right 
lengths  for  logs.  We  went  to  the  first  tree  we  could 
find  notched  and  went  to  work.  It  was  very  cold  and 
we  could  not  stand  around  and  wait  for  daylight.  We 
were  unlucky,  however,  in  taking  that  particular  tree 
first.  The  day  before  we  had  felled  a  tall  white  pine, 
the  top  of  which  was  broken  off  and  left  hanging  in 
the  top  of  another  tree.  We  had  watched  it  and 
worked  under  it,  what  was  necessary  the  day  before, 
but  never  thought  of  it  this  morning.  The  tree  that 
v, '  were  now  cutting  down  was  not  large,  and  we  soon 
had  it  going.  The  snow  was  so  deep  we  hated  to 
wade  it,  and  thinking  of  no  danger  from  anything  but 
the  falling  tree,  we  just  stepped  away  from  the  stump 
far  enough  so  that  if  it  jumped  back  off  the  stump  it 
could  not  hit  us,  and  waited  for  it  to  come  to  the 
ground,  and  in  coming  down  it  struck  the  tree  that 
was  freighted  with  the  loose  top,  pushing  it  over  a 
little,  then  slipping  past  allowed  the  standing  tree 
to  spring  back  straight,  with  force  enough  to  throw 
the  loose  top  out  in  the  air.  It  was  still  too  dark  to 
see  well.  I  took  my  ax  and  the  measuring  pole,  and 
when  I  stopped  I  faced  around  with  one  end  of  the 


42 

pole  on  my  shoulder,  the  other  on  the  snow,  when 
that  tree  top  came  down  and  broke  the  measuring  pole 
into  pieces.  The  top  was  about  six  or  seven  inches  in 
diameter  at  the  large  end,  and  barely  missed  me.  After 
that  I  was  careful  what  I  did  before  daylight. 

This  camp  sent  quite  a  number  of  men  to  the  hos- 
pital during  the  time  I  was  there,  with  broken  bones, 
chopped  feet  and  so  on.  However,  I  was  quite  for- 
tunate. 

Soon  after  the  last  incident  given,  my  partner  at 
sawing,  a  young  man  from  Grand  Traverse,  by  the 
name  of  Charlie  Brown,  said  "Let's  get  out  of  this." 
The  board  furnished  us  was  very  unsatisfactory  to  all 
hands,  and  I,  as  well  as  others,  was  restless  over  it. 
Charlie  added  to  this  by  saying  that  he  was  suspicious 
of  the  spring  payday,  the  men  having  been  notified  by 
the  foreman  one  evening  that  no  more  money  would  be 
paid  until  April  first.  At  this  time  it  was  common  for 
camp  men  to  lose  part,  or  all  of  a  winter's  pay,  the 
lein  laws  at  that  time  not  being  in  general  use.  Charlie 
Brown  was  about  the  only  man  in  camp  that  I  liked, 
so  when  he  decided  to  leave  I  went  with  him.  I  took 
one  precaution,  however,  that  saved  me  ten  dollars. 
In  looking  up  the  time  I  had  thirty-one  and  one-half 
dollars  due  me,  and  I  had  just  before  drawn  what 
clothes  I  needed.  But  Charlie  made  me  suspicious, 
and  I  thought  I  would  ask  the  foreman  to  give  me  an 
order  so  I  could  get  some  more  clothes.  He  asked 
how  much  I  wanted,  and  I  told  him  I  thought  ten  dol- 
lars would  do,  and  he  gave  me  the  order  so  uncon- 


43 

cerned  that  I  wished  I  had  asked  for  more.     I  drew  it 
in  clothes  and  tobacco. 


SECTION  VII. 

I  then  saw  Mr.  Lillie,  which  was  a  misnomer,  for 
his  right  name  would  have  indicated  a  much 
darker  color.  I  told  him  I  was  going  out  of  camp, 
and  asked  when  he  would  pay  me  all  up.  He  prom- 
ised it  in  April,  but  would  pay  nothing  before  then. 
We  had  no  money,  either  of  us.  We  went  to  Cadilac 
and  tried  to  get  a  job  in  some  other  camp.  We  were 
not  afraid  to  say  that  we  were  good  sawyers.  Indeed, 
they  were  very  sorry  to  see  us  leave  the  Lillie  camp 
when  we  started  out.  One  little  lack  of  knowledge  on 
our  part  had  to  be  admitted,  and  we  stood  a  poor 
chance  on  account  of  that.  We  found  a  man  at  a  hotel 
who  wanted  some  sawyers  to  go  out  to  his  camp.  He 
was  a  pleasant  appearing  man,  and  I  was  quite  encour- 
aged when  he  said  he  wanted  some  sawyers,  and  I 
thought  that  he  looked  at  me  approvingly.  Finally  he 
said,  "Can  either  of  you  keep  your  own  saw  in  good 
order?"  That  caught  me  unawares.  We  had  to  own 
up  that  we  were  not  able  to  do  it,  and  so  he  could  not 
hire  us.  Not  many  camps  were  large  enough  to  afford 
a  man  to  just  do  the  filing.  We  denounced  the  luck, 
but  at  the  same  time  I  saw  that  if  I  had  improved  my 
opportunity  I  should  have  been  a  number  one  filer. 
When  my  brother  went  to  the  Lillie  camp  he  was  un- 
concerned about  anything  like  that,  for  he  was  a  good 


44 

filer,  and  that  helped  to  make  Harrington  and  him  such 
chums,  and  either  one  of  them  would  have  been  glad 
to  have  shown  me  anything  I  would  have  asked  about 
filing.  I  could  file  some,  but  not  enough  to  say  I  could 
keep  a  lumberman's  saw  all  right.  Charlie  said  if  we 
could  get  to  Traverse  City  we  would  be  able  to  get 
work.  A  brother  of  his  that  did  work  at  Lillie's  was 
now  over  at  Traverse,  and  had  written  that  work  was 
plenty  at  a  camp  where  Charlie  was  acquainted.  We 
could  not  walk  it,  the  distance  being  about  fifty  miles, 
and  the  snow  quite  deep,  nearly  two  feet.  I  had  a 
watch  in  my  pocket  that  I  had  bought  of  a  farmer  by 
the  name  of  Stadel  down  in  Ionia  County  just  before 
going  north.  I  thought  of  selling  it,  but  could  not  find 
a  buyer.  Then  I  went  to  a  pawnshop  and  asked  what 
they  could  advance  on  it.  The  manager  looked  at  it 
carefully  and  said,  "I  will  weigh  the  cases  and  give  just 
what  they  are  worth  for  bullion."  They  were  coin 
silver  cases,  and  had  pretty  good  works  inside,  but  we 
had  not  money  enough  to  pay  for  lodging  over  night, 
and  so  I  let  him  take  out  the  works  and  weigh  the 
case.  The  amount  that  he  named  was  sufficient,  Charlie 
said,  to  land  us  in  Traverse  City.  It  was  less  than 
three  dollars,  but  I  accepted  the  amount,  and  we  were 
soon  on  a  train  bound  for  Traverse  City.  It  was  toward 
midnight  when  we  arrived  there.  Charlie  said  it  was 
about  ten  miles  to  Stearns'  camp,  where  there  were 
two  of  his  brothers  working,  and  he  had  also  worked 
for  them  himself;  but  his  mother  lived  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  we  would  go  there  to  stay  over  night  and 
rest  a  day  or  two,  which  we  did,  and  I  was  well  treated. 


45 

When  Charlie  thought  best  we  went  to  the  camp  and 
hired  out  to  Stearns  Bros,  to  saw  logs.  They  were 
contractors  putting  logs  into  Long  Lake,  about  ten 
miles  south  of  Traverse  City,  for  the  Hannah  &  Lay 
Co.  This  camp  was  a  pretty  good  one  compared  to 
where  I  had  been.  There  was  quite  a  little  farming 
country  around  Long  Lake,  and  this  camp  was  half 
composed  of  farmers.  It  was  a  winter  camp  only.  Here 
I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  young  man  by  the  name 
of  Tom  Bennett.  He  was  always  telling  me  about  the 
Betsy  River  drive.  He  had  been  on  that  drive  several 
springs,  and  thought  it  was  the  only  place  for  him 
after  the  ice  went  out  in  the  spring.  The  Betsy  River 
empties  into  Lake  Michigan  at  Frankfort.  It  is  a  small 
river,  but  carried  a  great  volume  of  logs  in  those  days. 
I  concluded  that  I  would  try  the  drive  with  him.  He 
was  driving  a  yoke  of  oxen  for  a  man  by  the  name  of 
lies,  who  owned  a  farm  seven  or  eight  miles  from 
camp,  and  had  hired  his  team  out  to  skid  logs  for  the 
winter.  His  son  Bill  was  foreman  over  the  Betsy 
River  drive.  About  the  time  camp  broke  up  and  Tom 
went  away  with  the  oxen,  he  told  us  that  he  had  spoken 
to  Mr.  lies  about  us,  and  he  said  that  Tom  should 
bring  us  along  when  the  drive  started  in  the  spring, 
so  we  promised  to  go  with  him.  It  was  a  long  time 
before  the  ice  was  out  of  Green  Lake,  which  is  the 
source  of  Betsy  River,  and  great  numbers  of  logs  were 
banked  around  the  edge  and  on  the  ice  of  this  lake,  they 
having  to  be  started  out  first  of  all. 

As  few  who  read  these  lines  are  acquainted  with  a 
rollway,  I  will  describe  it :    A  place  is  chosen  along  the 


46 

river  or  lake,  where  there  is  a  bank  of  some  height,  the 
higher  the  better,  usually,  if  its  top  is  on  a  level  with 
the  logging  road  from  the  camp.  This  bank  is  cleared 
of  trees,  stumps  and  anything  that  will  hinder  a  log 
from  rolling  clear  to  the  bottom  and  into  the  water. 
The  logging  road  terminates  at  the  bank.  The  sleighs, 
wheels,  trucks  or  cars,  or  whatever  brings  the  logs 
from  the  woods,  have  the  binding  chains  loosened  from 
over  the  load  of  logs.  There  are  always  two  rollway 
men  that  work  together.  One  steps  to  each  end  of  the 
load,  and  as  they  are  usually  expert  with  a  canthook, 
they  soon  get  each  other's  motions  so  that  they  can  act 
together;  and  two  men  will  take  the  logs,  no  matter 
how  large  or  long,  off  the  bunks  and  start  them  down 
the  bank.  Some  float  at  first,  but  they  soon  begin  to 
deck  up  higher  and  higher  until  they  reach  the  top ; 
then  skids  are  laid  on  them  and  other  logs  rolled  out 
over  the  first,  and  so  on  until  a  great  tier  is  run  way 
out  on  a  level  with  the  bank.  This  is  a  rollway,  and 
when  they  have  one  as  large  as  is  best  to  make  it,  an- 
other is  started  close  to  it,  and  so  on.  While  waiting 
for  the  ice  to  melt  out  of  Green  Lake,  I  was  told  that 
there  was  a  ship  timber  drive  started  already  on  Platte 
River,  which  would  give  work  ten  days  earlier  than 
the  Betsy  River  drive.  I  knew  very  little  about  either, 
and  as  I  was  impatient  to  get  to  work,  I  concluded  to 
take  the  first  work  that  I  could  get.  My  friend  Charlie 
had  decided  not  to  go  on  the  drive.  We  went  back 
to  the  Lillie  camp  to  draw  our  pay  on  the  first  of  April, 
the  time  that  we  had  been  promised  our  pay,  but  Mr. 
Lillie  declared  that  he  did  not  owe  us  anything,  and 


47 

we  could  do  nothing  but  go  back  without  it.  We  were 
just  our  car  fare  out  in  addition  to  what  we  had  earned 
and  did  not  draw. 


SECTION  VIII. 

I  hardly  wanted  to  disappoint  Tom,  but  I  had  used 
up  my  money  and  must  go  to  work,  so  I  started  one 
morning  alone  for  the  river.  I  had  seen  the  common 
round  logs  driven  down  some  of  the  rivers,  and  had 
worked  a  few  days  on  logs  in  the  lake.  I  was  large 
for  a  boy  of  nineteen,  as  large  as  I  ever  would  be,  hav- 
ing developed  young,  and  weighed  about  one  hundred 
and  sixty  pounds.  I  knew  that  at  any  kind  of  work 
that  I  understood  I  could  do  as  much  work  as  any  man 
would  be  willing  to  do,  and  as  I  traveled  that  day  I 
concluded  to  try  and  draw  full  wages.  The  road  was 
sloppy,  and  several  times  I  had  to  wade  snowdrifts 
where  it  had  been  piled  deep  by  the  wind  during  the 
winter,  and  was  shielded  somewhat  from  the  sun  by 
thick  growths  of  pine  and  hemlock,  which  never  shed 
their  green  coats.  The  creeks  were  swollen  by  the 
melting  snow,  and  the  ponds  were  partly  covered  with 
ice.  I  reached  the  Platte  River  about  four  P.  M.,  and 
after  much  inquiring  I  also  found  McCray's  camp.  I 
had  time  to  investigate  around  camp  and  along  the 
river  a  little  before  night.  This  was  the  first  of  April, 
but  the  men  did  not  come  in  until  dark.  There  seemed 
to  be  about  twenty  of  them,  and  their  uniformity  was  a 
striking  feature.  They  seemed  to  be  about  the  same 


48 

age,  perhaps  not  far  from  thirty  years.  Three  of  them 
only  were  shorter  than  myself — five  feet  eight  inches. 
One  bore  the  name  of  Charles  Emory,  I  learned  later. 
There  were  two  colored  fellows  and  one  Indian  in  the 
crew,  but  they  seemed  to  be  standard  built  like  the  rest. 
Of  course  this  was  but  a  chance  occurrence,  and  if  they 
were  put  on  the  scales  and  then  stood  up  by  a  survey- 
or's pole  they  would  have  required  several  different 
sets  of  figures  to  express  their  weight  and  height,  and 
still  they  were  remarkably  uniform.  Their  faces  set 
me  at  the  discount  of  being  pretty  young,  but  the  fact 
that  I  realized  this,  and  acted  accordingly,  served  my 
purpose  for  the  time. 

When  the  foreman  came  in  I  asked  what  the  chance 
was  for  a  job.  He  knew  that  I  was  acquainted  with 
camp  life  by  my  dress  and  ways,  but  put  the  question 
to  me:  "Have  you  been  on  the  drive  before?"  I  ex- 
pected that,  and  replied:  "I  have  never  been  on  a 
square  timber  drive,  but  I  have  worked  on  round  logs." 
I  wanted  him  to  think  that  I  had  been  on  a  river  drive, 
and  was  ready  to  follow  up  with  anything  necessary 
to  establish  that  impression  on  him;  but  a  lie  won't 
sound  just  the  way  the  speaker  wants  it  to,  and  he 
looked  at  me  skeptically.  One  thing  he  noticed  was 
that  I  had  on  a  pair  of  the  finest  hand-made  river  boots 
that  could  be  bought;  that  showed  that  I  knew  what 
was  needed  to  travel  the  logs  with,  and  would  pay  the 
highest  price — they  cost  me  six  dollars.  He  wanted 
more  men  right  then,  and  said,  "All  right,  go  in  with 
the  men  to  supper."  The  evening  was  spent  by  the 
men  in  calk  setting  and  getting  their  clothing,  done  up 


49 

ready  for  the  first  move,  which  was  to  take  place  in,a 
few  days.  This  was  the  winter  camp,  and  was  situated 
close  by  the  river  bank.  From  here  they  had  gone  out 
in  every  direction,  during  the  winter,  cutting  down 
the  pine  and  hewing  it  square,  not  cutting  it  up  in  short 
logs,  but  making  them  as  long  as  they  could  and  still 
be  the  same  size  the  entire  length,  until  they  reached 
the  length  of  forty  feet. 

This  being  a  small  river,  it  Was  not  possible  to  drive 
the  timber  longer  than  forty  feet.  As  soon  as  the 
timbers  were  all  passed  below  the  camp  about  a  mile  or 
so,  the  tent  would  take  the  place  of  the  log  shanty. 

River  calks  are  hard-tempered  steel  spurs  that  are 
driven  in  a  double  row  and  clear  around  the  sole  of  the 
boot,  just  about  as  the  nails  or  stitches  run  around  on 
the  sole  of  a  shoe  or  boot.  Then  there  are  five  driven 
in  the  heel,  making  perhaps  thirty-five  or  more  in  each 
boot.  There  is  no  danger  of  slipping  when  these  are 
worn,  and  they  have  saved  hundreds_of  lives;  besides, 
the  men  can  do  very  little  work  without  them,  if  the 
logs  are  peeled  or  hewed;  but  on  the  natural  rough 
bark  men  sometimes  work  with  common  smooth-soled 
boots,  but  at  very  great  disadvantage. 

This  evening  the  supply  team  which  hauled  the  pro- 
visions for  this  camp  came  in  from  Traverse  City  after 
dark  with  the  usual  load  of  meat,  flour  and  other  camp 
provisions.  Among  other  supplies  were  about  one 
dozen  peevies.  A  peevy  is  really  a  canthook  with  an 
extra  good  handle  and  a  square  sharp  steel  pike  about 
seven  or  eight  inches  long  deeply  set  in  the  lower  end 
of  the  handle.  This  is  the  only  tool  a  river  man  carries 


50 

on  a  log  drive.  In  addition  the  crew  carries  along,  for 
occasional  use,  a  log  chain  and  two  axes,  which  are  apt 
to  cause  much  trouble  and  many  a  search.  Bedtime 
came,  and  we  retired  to  rest.  Morning  came,  and  with 
it  the  cry,  "Turn  out.  Turn  out."  As  we  filed  out  to 
the  breakfast  shanty,  I  sized  up  the  cluster  of  peevies 
that  had  been  brought  in  the  evening  before.  They 
were  stuck  up  close  to  each  other  near  the  supply 
wagon.  When  we  were  done  breakfast  some  went  back 
to  their  bunks  for  pipe  and  tobacco,  others  stood  talk- 
ing expecting  to  hear  the  word  which  was  to  make 
them  fall  in  line  and  begin  the  tramp  to  the  upper 
water.  Presently  some  of  the  men  began  to  take  their 
peevies,  which  could  be  seen  sticking  here  and  there, 
some  plunged  deep  in  the  earth,  some  were  stuck  in  the 
wall  of  the  shanty  and  in  standing  trees  close  by,  others 
were  thrown  carelessly  by  against  the  building.  I 
knew  better  than  to  take  one  of  them,  for  in  the  logging 
camps  it  is  never  allowable  for  one  man  to  take  any 
tool  that  was  used  the  day  before  by  another;  for  a 
man  to  work  all  day  with  any  tool  made  it  his  until 
it  was  worn  out;  and  to  walk  off  with  another  man's 
ax  or  canthook  was  a  rank  challenge,  quite  apt  to 
result  in  someone  being  laid  up  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
probably  a  discharge  of  one  man.  And  I  knew  the 
mettle  of  this  river  crew  at  a  glance,  but  I  also  knew 
that  if  a  man  was  to  work  all  the  time  with  one  tool 
it  ought  to  be  a  real  good  one,  if  he  could  get  it.  And 
the  moment  I  heard  the  rattle  of  the  hooks  as  they 
swung  back  and  forth  in  the  iron  clasps  that  encircle 
the  handle  to  which  the  hook  is  bolted,  as  they  were 


51 

jerked  and  pried  loose  from  where  they  had  been  stuck 
the  evening  before,  I  stepped  quickly  over  where  the 
wagon  stood,  ran  my  eye  over  the  handles  and  saw  that 
they  had  all  been  used  before.  Among  them  I  noticed 
one  as  being  an  exceptionally  fine  piece  of  timber,  and 
the  hook  was  also  hung  to  the  handle  just  right  to 
throw  the  strain  in  lifting  on  the  handle  the  right  way 
of  the  grain,  rendering  it  as  strong  as  possible.  This 
was  just  the  canthook  part  of  it,  and  I  was  quite 
familiar  with  them.  I  yanked  it  up  and  looked  at  the 
part  that  constituted  it  a  peevy.  The  pike  iron  was 
as  firmly  set  as  could  be,  and  lined  straight  with  the 
center  of  the  handle;  and  to  add  to  all  this,  the  toe 
ring  and  ferrules  that  encircled  and  strengthened  the 
wood  all  the  way  from  the  bottom  and  up  to  where  the 
clasp  united  stick  and  hook,  were  on  solid.  By  the 
time  all  these  observations  were  made,  and  I  had  the 
peevy  across  my  shoulder,  there  were  none  left  stand- 
ing there.  The  men  were  most  of  them  in  sight  when 
I  reached  for  my  choice.  Many  of  them  had  been  using 
an  unsatisfactory  peevy  on  account  of  crooked  or 
cracked  handles,  or  too  much  play  room  for  the  hook 
in  the  clamp,  which  lets  the  point  of  the  hook  vary 
from  the  aim  of  the  workman  when  he  strikes  it  into  a 
log.  As  these  were  a  supply  new  at  this  camp,  no  one 
had  a  claim  on  them,  and  every  man  that  wanted  to 
better  himself,  and  saw  this  opportunity,  made  a  rush 
for  it.  When  the  friendly  scuffle  among  them  was  over 
two  things  were  in  my  favor,  I  had  the  best  peevy  in 
that  lot  and  as  good  as  there  was  in  camp,  and  the 
second  point,  which  was  of  more  value  by  far,  I  had 


52 

made  a  hit  with  the  men,  for  they  noticed  at  once  the 
fine  peevy  that  I  had,  and  knew  that  I  got  it  by  fair 
play,  though  they  wanted  it  badly. 

By  my  reserve  in  conversation  I  had  concealed  my 
stock  of  ignorance  of  the  drive,  and  with  one  of  the 
best  pair  of  boots  in  camp  on  my  feet,  I  fell  into  line 
and  kept  step  to  Jack's  pace.  Jack  was  the  foreman. 
I  was  resolved  to  keep  wide  awake  and  not  make  a 
bad  break  if  I  could  help  it.  I  would  watch  the  rest, 
and  do  as  they  did  without  waiting  to  be  told.  I  took 
my  place  a  little  more  than  half  way  back  from  the 
foreman.  It  was  now  fully  light  in  the  woods,  about 
five-thirty  o'clock  perhaps.  We  were  led  a  swift  pace, 
sometimes  across  a  clearing  of  a  few  acres,  sometimes 
in  thick  timber,  much  of  the  time  by  the  river  bank, 
sometimes  on  the  bluff  where  we  could  look  down  fifty 
or  sixty  feet,  where  the  water  was  rushing  along 
swiftly  over  beds  of  stone  and  sand  usually  called  the 
rapids  ;  then  along  in  cedar  swamps  close  to  the  water's 
edge,  where  the  water  ran  slow  and  deep  and  the  black 
mud  beneath  the  water  was  as  deep  as  the  water  itself. 
And  to  our  disadvantage  the  mud  was  not  all  in  the 
river.  We  jumped  across  it  in  narrow  strips,  crossed  it 
on  logs  and  stepped  in  it  often;  but  the  river  boot  is 
made  for  this,  as  well  as  to  carry  calks.  The  top  came 
clear  to  the  knee,  and  at  the  top  is  a  wide  strap  buckling 
around  the  limb  so  it  cannot  slip  down.  It  keeps  out 
mud,  sand  and  small  sticks  and  bark  that  might  other- 
wise work  in  at  the  top  of  the  boot. 

We  followed  a  narrow  trail  just  started  a  few  days 
before  but  it  was  already  very  plain.  Finally  we 


53 

reached  a  dam  across  the  river,  which  had  been  built 
some  years  and  was  much  dilapidated. 

There  were  plenty  of  square  timbers  in  sight  below 
the  dam,  and  which  were  strewn  along  the  shore  for  a 
mile  or  more,  there  were  not  many  more  above  the  dam 
as  the  whole  force  had  been  at  work  putting  the  timber 
past  the  dam  for  several  days.  The  foreman  stopped 
where  the  water  ran  through  the  dam,  and  cut  the  line 
of  men  in  two  just  in  front  of  me  saying  to  those  in 
front,  go  up  and  work  those  timbers  down  here  as 
quickly  as  possible.  Some  of  the  smaller  ones  were 
afloat  but  the  larger  ones  were  all  stranded.  Turning 
to  the  rest  of  us  he  said,  cut  down  those  hemlock  trees 
and  bring  the  brush  here,  as  he  pointed  to  a  hemlock 
grove  composed  of  trees  mostly  less  than  thirty  feet 
high.  I  could  do  that  as  well  as  any  one  in  the  crew, 
and  I  felt  that  I  was  fortunate  in  getting  a  chance  to 
work  on  the  side  hill  where  I  could  occasionally  glance 
over  where  the  other  men  were  working  with  the  logs. 
This  brush  that  we  drew  down  to  the  dam,  was  used 
in  choking  up  the  throat  or  gate  of  the  dam  where  the 
water  was  running  through.  Large  quantities  of  the 
green  boughs  and  poles  being  thrown  across  this  place 
which  was  not  more  than  fifteen  feet  wide,  the  flow  of 
water  was  checked  in  part,  and  it  caused  it  to  rise  in 
the  pond  above  the  dam,  this  caused  the  timber  to  float 
and  though  it  checked  the  current  above  the  dam  the 
men  could  slowly  work  the  logs  to  the  dam.  Every 
time  there  were  twenty-five  or  thirty  timbers  down  to 
the,  dam,  a  blow  of  the  ax  would  so  weaken  the  poles 
across  the  gateway  that  the  pressure  of  the  water 


54 

would  snap  them  off.  Every  man  knew  his  business 
(but  me  and  I  was  learning)  and  the  timbers  were  kept 
in  the  middle  of  the  slight  current  above  the  gate. 
Several  men  were  on  these  logs,  which  numbered  from 
ten  to  thirty-five.  When  the  poles  were  cut  the  bank 
of  bushes  and  water  passed  through  the  gate  in  the 
dam  with  a  great  roar,  the  timbers  quickly  passing 
down  until  the  water  became  too  shallow  for  them  to 
float.  The  same  process  was  repeated  again  and  again. 
Any  one  was  excusable  for  taking  a  look  when  the  flood 
was  turned  loose,  and  the  way  some  of  those  men  could 
ride  a  log  over  and  through  this  dam  was,  to  say  the 
least,  astonishing  to  one  not  used  to  it.  The  logs  must 
not  be  allowed  to  pass  into  the  gate,  crosswise,  nor 
enough  at  a  time  to  clog  up  the  passage.  Only  picked 
men  were  allowed  to  pass  through  the  gate.  Never- 
theless, I  think  I  was  about  the  only  one  that  was  not 
anxious  and  even  very  eager  for  the  fun  of  going 
through  the  gate.  The  remainder  of  the  timber  was  all 
below  the  dam  inside  of  two  days.  The  foreman  was 
pleased  when  the  last  timber  passed  the  gate  and 
gave  a  few  yells  in  evidence  of  it. 

The  men  who  passed  through  this  place  often  per- 
formed feats  of  daring  that  would  put  many  a  cow-boy 
to  shame.  Once  the  timber  was  below  the  dam,  we 
brush  hustlers  were  told  to  join  the  rest  of  the  crew  and 
work  on  the  rear.  There  is  a  front  and  a  rear  crew  and 
no  one  was  sent  to  the  front  at  first  until  he  has  proven 
himself  on  the  rear.  He  must  first  be  able  to  ride  a 
log  in  swift  water,  and  be  able  to  swim  and  carry  his 
peevy  if  he  gets  thrown  in.  On  the  north  side  hill 


55 

where  we  cut  the  hemlock  brush,  there  was  snow  eight 
or  ten  inches  deep  in  spots,  and  when  it  came  to  getting 
into  the  river,  it  was  all  that  I  was  equal  to ;  but  I  had 
decided  to  follow  every  example  set  by  the  older  hands 
and  I  did  it  so  promptly  and  well,  that  I  passed  for 
all  right. 

Some  men  had  already  gone  ahead  and  were  rolling 
in  logs  which  had  been  stranded  in  shallow  water  and 
were  lodged  against  the  bank  at  every  bend  which 
could  be  easily  pushed  off  from  the  bank  and  quickly 
carried  down  by  the  current.  I  had  been  working 
briskly,  consequently  was  very  warm,  and  as  I  jumped 
into  the  ice  cold  water  which  came  above  my  knees 
it  gave  me  a  terrible  shock,  I  expected  it,  and  landed 
right  in  with  both  feet  at  once,  so  I  could  not  flinch, 
knowing  that  I  would  be  watched.  As  my  feet  struck 
the  bottom  it  seemed  as  though  my  very  heart  was 
frozen  and  for  an  instant  m^  jaws  were  set,  but  the 
force  with  which  I  was  moving  when  I  left  the  bank 
was  still  carrying  me  forward,  and  I  must  keep  step- 
ping or  fall  over,  so  I  kept  stepping.  It  was  only  a 
few  rods  to  the  nearest  timber  and  I  made  for  it.  Just 
then  I  caught  distinctly  four  words  that  came  from  the 
foreman,  who  was  feeling  very  much  pleased  and  spoke 
in  a  loud  tone,  which  was  quite  necessary  on  account 
of  the  roaring  of  the  water,  for  it  was  all  rapids  below 
the  dam.  Following  some  other  remarks,  he  said,  "he 
goes  right  in/'  in  tones  that  expressed  both  surprise 
and  pleasure. 

I  paired  off  with  a  fellow  from  Canada,  and  all  I  had 
to  do  was  just  what  he  did.  If  he  stepped  on  the  shore 


56 

side  of  a  log  and  caught  a  lifting  hold  with  his  hook, 
I  did  the  same,  and  if  he  took  the  deep  water  side  and 
caught  the  top  corner  of  the  log  with  his  hook  I  did  the 
same,  then  we  both  threw  our  weight  on  the  peevies, 
and  over  it  came  with  a  chuck  one  quarter  way.  All 
the  logs  being  square,  if  we  turned  one  at  all,  it  was  one 
quarter  way  over.  Starting  the  logs  afloat  was  sim- 
ple enough,  any  one  that  had  worked  in  a  logging  camp 
could  do  that  as  well  as  the  best  log  rider.  I  did  not 
step  on  a  log  while  the  foreman  was  there,  but  he  only 
stayed  a  short  time  then  went  to  the  front. 

As  soon  as  I  looked  at  the  timbers  in  the  water  the 
first  morning  I  noticed  that  contrary  to  my  expecta- 
tions they  all  floated  with  one  corner  up,  making  a 
peak  at  the  top  like  the  ridge  of  a  house  roof  for  the 
log  rider  to  stand  on.  I  had  expected  to  see  them  float 
with  one  side  up,  thus  making  a  good  place  to  stand, 
and  thought  they  would  be  easier  to  ride  than  round 
logs,  when  exactly  the  opposite  was  true  of  them,  for 
the  round  logs  give  good  footing  just  the  same  every- 
where. The  square  causes  the  foot  to  set  in  a  straining 
position  and  this  is  tiresome,  and  when  they  roll  the 
rider  must  step  high  for  the  corner,  and  lower  for  the 
side.  Every  time  a  corner  comes  over  it  seems  to  be 
trying  to  tip  one  up.  As  soon  as  the  foreman  went  to 
the  front  I  began  to  make  use  of  every  good  opportu- 
nity to  ride,  remarking  that  I  must  get  used  to  these 
square  things,  as  they  were  so  different  from  the 
round  ones  to  work  with.  I  knew  from  the  moment 
that  we  rolled  in  a  crooked  log  that  they  would  not 
burl,  that  is  to  roll  in  the  water.  Some  of  them  had 


57 

quite  a  curve  to  them  and  I  rode  those  every  time  it 
came  handy. 

This  work  caused  all  the  men  to  be  careless,  for  we 
were  in  the  water  most  all  the  time  and  every  one  was 
wet  and  jumping  on  and  off  the  logs,  so  they  did  not 
seem  to  notice  me  in  particular,  and  I  improved  every 
opportunity  to  practice  log  riding. 


SECTION  IX. 

One  past  experience  now  served  me  well.  In  rqy 
trapping  experiences  a  few  years  back,  I  had  learned 
to  handle  a  canoe  to  quite  a  degree  of  perfection,  and 
the  riding  of  a  log  and  a  canoe  is  very  much  alike,  a 
canoe  is  only  a  log  hollowed  out  and  it  will  roll  over 
wonderfully  easy;  this  gave  me  the  knack  of  balance, 
and  I  now  realized  the  value  of  it.  In  less  than  a  week 
I  did  not  care  whether  the  foreman  was  about  or  not; 
I  mounted  a  log  if  necessary,  with  confidence.  It  was 
not  at  all  uncommon  for  the  older  men  to  get  in  all 
over,  and  this  always  brought  forth  a  hoot  and  hilari- 
ous laughter. 

When  we  had  been  working  about  ten  days  I  was 
fully  adopted  into  the  confidence  of  all  the  men  on  the 
rear.  The  men  on  the  front  were  seldom  seen  except 
in  the  evening  and  at  lunch  time.  We  always*  had  four 
meals  a  day,  two  were  brought  to  us,  and  two  were 
taken  at  the  camp.  We  ate  at'  daylight,  at  ten,  at  two 
and  after  dark. 

I  had  not  been  on  the  drive  over  two  weeks  when, 


58 

one  day,  the  foreman  told  me  to  come  below,  he  took 
a  log  and  started  down  on  one  side  of  the  river,  I  fol- 
lowed but  was  on  the  opposite  side  from  him  and  far 
enough  back  so  that  while  I  faced  down  naturally,  I 
had  him  in  view  all  the  time,  but  for  him  to  see  me  he 
must  turn  his  head  enough  so  that  it  was  quite  notice- 
able to  me.  I  knew  that  he  meant  to  make  a  job  of 
it  and  find  out  whether  I  was  all  right  or  not.  Once  I 
thought  it  was  all  wrong  for  me,  and  I  was  prepared 
for  a  swim.  On  my  side  of  the  river  it  was  too  deep 
to  reach  bottom  with  my  peevy,  and  so  I  could  not 
control  the  course  of  the  log  to  any  great  extent,  and 
extending  out  from  the  bank  just  below  me  a  few  rods, 
was  a  cedar  tree  which  ran  out  over  the  water  about 
fifteen  feet,  and  the  current  was  carrying  my  log  pretty 
near  the  middle  of  the  projecting  part  of  the  tree  which 
was  just  too  low  for  me  to  pass  under,  and  too  high 
to  step  over.  The  log  on  which  I  rode  was  not  a  very 
long  one  and  perfectly  straight  and  had  not  touched 
the  earth  or  anything  else  for  a  long  distance,  and  had 
gained  a  rate  of  speed  nearly  equal  to  that  of  the  water 
itself.  I  could  easily  spring  into  the  cedar  and  go 
ashore,  but  that  would  brand  me  a  land  lubber,  and  I 
would  much  rather  have  him  see  me  swim  ashore 
than  leave  the  log  without  an  effort  to  clear  the  tree. 
I  had  to  keep  my  peevy  in  one  hand,  and  the  hook  in 
place  so  it  would  not  catch  in  the  cedar  limbs,  but  I 
sprang  from  the  timber  without  setting  it  rolling,  so 
that  I  might  be  able  to  get  my  feet  on  it  again  right, 
for  the  calks  would  stick  long  enough  for  me  to  get  my 
balance,  even  if  I  did  set  it  to  rolling  when  I  struck 


59 

it  again ;  I  crossed  the  cedar,  gained  control  of  the  log 
and  kept  it  going,  just  the  same  as  if  I  had  been  on  the 
drive  for  years.  At  this  the  foreman  showed  me  the 
favor  of  a  smile,  and  it  was  the  only  one  I  ever  saw 
him  bestow  on  me. 

When  we  cleared  a  certain  bend  I  saw  the  remains 
of  a  rollway;  it  had  been  a  single  rollway,  and  about 
one  hundred  feet  long;  and  most  of  the  logs  had  been 
rolled  into  the  river  and  the  remaining  ones  were 
mostly  way  back  up  the  bluff,  and  a  few  were  frozen  in 
a  sheet  of  ice  that  extended  over  most  of  the  ground 
where  the  timber  had  lain.  I  will  never  forget  that 
banking  ground;  I  was  told  to  lend  a  hand  there,  for 
the  men  were  prying  off  the  top  timbers  and  trying  to 
start  them  down  over  the  icy  ground  straight  with  the 
river,  so  they  would  float  right  down  stream  out  of  the 
way.  The  great  trouble  in  handling  the  timbers,  was, 
they  would  get  to  going  endwise  to  the  water,  and  must 
be  straightened  in  the  mud  at  the  waters  edge.  The 
bank  was  quite  steep  and  they  went  down  it  with  a 
boom,  boom  that  could  be  heard  for  miles  as  they  went 
over  the  icy  banks  which,  until  now,  had  been  shielded 
from  the  sun  by  the  great  bank  of  timbers,  though  the 
snow  and  frost  were  entirely  gone  everywhere  else. 
Once  when  about  to  let  one  go  from  the  top,  one  end 
shot  ahead  and  fell  down,  the  sharp  corner  cut  a  niche 
for  itself  and  stopped  there  with  the  other  end  upon 
the  top  of  three  or  four  others ;  it  was  desirable  to  not 
let  the  lower  end  roll  any,  but  to  slide  the  top  end  so 
it  could  drop  down  and  slide  ahead  as  far  as  the  front 
end  now  was,  then  let  go. 


60 

Another  man  and  I  stood  at  the  side  of  the  rollway 
where  the  front  end  of  the  inclined  timber  was,  we 
obeyed  the  order  to  hold  it;  that  meant  to  catch  it  with 
our  hooks  so  that  we  had  a  back  roll  hold,  as  though 
we  were  going  to  roll  it  up  hill ;  but  really  only  to  keep 
it  where  it  was.  Men  at  the  other  end  pried  it  around 
until  it  began  to  fall.  In  coming  down  the  corner  at 
the  back  side,  it  caught  a  little  on  one  of  the  lower  tim- 
bers, which  made  it  roll  so  quickly  that  I  could  not  let 
go  of  my  peevy  handle,  and  I  went  up  and  over  just 
as  the  handle  went,  only  I  went  on  a  larger  circle  and 
struck  in  front  of  the  timbers,  some  of  the  other  tim- 
bers were  loosened,  but  for  some  reason  stopped. 

Some  or  all  of  the  credit  was  due  to  the  men  that 
flew  at  the  timbers  with  their  hooks  and  pikes;  but 
they  could  not  have  stopped  the  timbers  here  on  the 
ice  had  they  got  a  favorable  start.  Probably  the  cor- 
ner of  the  front  timber  cut  into  the  surface  a  little, 
thus  partly  checking  the  force,  and  the  men  were  then 
able  to  master  them,  no  doubt,  every  one  of  them  had 
been  in  even  closer  corners  than  that  many  times.  For- 
tunately I  came  out  of  it  unhurt.  I  was  then  sent  to 
work  on  the  front. 

When  large  numbers  of  logs  are  put  afloat  they 
lodge  in  the  bends  of  the  stream  and  fill  in  clear  across 
unless  pushed  off,  sometimes  filling  the  river  for  half 
a  mile,  but  usually  only  a  few  rods,  this  is  called  a  jam, 
and  square  timbers  are  the  worst  kind  of  logs  to  jam, 
as  they  lie  cornerwise  at  first  and  then  they  begin  to 
tighten  up,  and  as  a  greater  weight  is  pressed  against 
them  they  begin  to  turn  square  with  each  other  and 


61 

wedge  tighter  and  tighter.  If  a  jam  is  caused  by  one 
very  long  stick  getting  crosswise  of  the  stream,  others 
swing  sidewise  to  it  and  the  current  running  under  this 
sometimes  lodges  other  timbers  under  and  thus  dams 
up  the  stream,  making  the  water  rise  and  overflow  the 
land,  causing  a  great  many  logs  to  float  close  to  the 
front  and  out  at  the  sides  much  farther  than  common. 
When  the  jam  is  broken  many  of  these  are  left  by  the 
subsiding  water  way  back  from  the  stream,  and  some- 
times behind  trees  or  stumps,  they  then  have  to  be 
picked  up  bodily  and  carried  back  into  the  water.  This 
makes  the  work  of  jam  breaking  a  very  important  part 
of  the  drive.  If  it  can  be  broken  before  the  water  rises 
behind,  there  is  much  time  and  labor  saved.  This  is 
more  exciting  than  rollway  work  on  account  of  the 
haste  necessary.  The  men  on  the  front  endeavor  to 
prevent  a  jam  forming,  and  should  a  man  see  that  his 
task  is  too  much  for  him  and  a  jam  is  beginning  to  form 
which  he  despairs  of  handling  alone,  he  raises  a  yell. 
I  will  explain  one  that  I  distinctly  remember  and  it 
will  answer  for  the  description  of  many.  When  I  came 
in  sight  of  it  there  was  an  uneven  floor  of  timbers  over 
quite  a  body  of  water,  the  cause  way  ^ome  great  snags 
in  one  side  of  the  river ;  everything  was  centered  there, 
but  reached  both  banks,  and  the  logs  were  coming 
down  from  above  at  a  rapid  rate.  The  water  was  also 
rising  and  every  additional  log  helped  to  wedge  the 
timber  closer  together  and  they  were  continually 
squeaking  and  groaning  as  if  in  pain.  Water  was 
pouring  over  as  well  as  under  and  spurting  up  through 
cracks  between  the  front  logs  coming  down  on  the 


62 

men  who  were  trying  with  axes  and  peevies  to  liberate 
the  key  logs.  They  did  everything  that  could  be  done, 
only  to  see  the  pond  getting  wider  and  making  more 
work.  Someone  said  we  will  have  to  cut  the  end  off 
from  that  timber  or  we  shall  never  be  able  to  break 
this  jam.  It  was  an  unprecedented  remedy,  but  the 
only  one,  as  one  end  of  a  very  long,  valuable  timber 
was  against  a  tree,  and  the  other  end  was  fast  in  the 
hollow  side  of  a  great  log  under  water,  and  to  make  it 
worse,  the  foreman  was  not  there  yet.  Things  were 
shaping  worse  continually  and  we  could  waste  no 
more  time,  so  one  man  took  an  ax  and  started  to  cut 
the  timber  in  two;  he  had  just  made  a  good  start  when 
the  foreman  came  tearing  through  the  brush;  he  was 
mad  to  say  the  least,  and  at  once  stopped  the  chopping, 
then  he  just  charged  and  jumped  around.  The  noise 
of  the  hissing  water  had  become  so  great  that  we  could 
not  hear  a  word  any  one  said  unless  our  faces  were 
right  up  to  each  other.  When  he  had  taken  in  the 
whole  situation  and  wasted  at  least  three  or  four  min- 
utes, he  seized  the  ax  and  chopped  the  timber  part  off 
himself.  None  of  us  dared  to  move,  for  we  had  to 
watch  the  foreman  to  see  where  he  would  point,  that 
being  the  only  way  he  could  give  orders.  When  the 
timber  was  getting  weak  from  being  chopped,  we  all 
made  ready  for  the  work  of  running  out  the  center 
of  the  jam,  which  must  be  kept  moving,  so  the  chan- 
nel would  be  cleared  first  and  be  kept  open.  When  the 
obstructing  timber  swung  around  straight  in  the  cur- 
rent there  was  a  forward  surge  of  everything  under 
foot,  and  all  the  hissing  and  spurting  of  water  stopped 


63 

and  another  noise  took  its  place.  It  was  the  rumble  of 
the  timbers  as  they  loosened  and  tried  to  turn  down 
cornerwise,  continually  thumping  against  each  other. 
All  the  loose  logs  shot  forward  close  by  the  one  that 
had  barred  their  passage,  and  some  one  must  go  with 
them.  Every  man  was  prying  or  pushing  with  all  his 
strength  to  separate  the  logs  and  not  have  them  go  in 
large  enough  bunches  to  form  another  jam  at  the  next 
bend,  for  this  was  likely  to  occur  if  too  many  went  to- 
gether. I  was  carried  down  stream  on  the  front  logs, 
and  as  I  went  I  tried  to  separate  them  somewhat  by 
pushing  some  ahead  of  others.  Finally  I  came  quite 
close  to  a  short  bend  where  there  was  sure  to  be  a  jam 
unless  some  one  stood  there  and  kept  the  timbers  off. 
1  needed  to  keep  as  far  to  the  front  of  my  lot  of  logs  as 
I  could  and  make  a  landing  before  any  of  them  struck 
the  bank.  I  jumped  from  one  to  another  until  I  stood 
on  the  front  one,  when  this  was  almost  to  the  shore  I 
ran  about  half  the  length  of  it  and  sprang  off  to  what 
I  thought  was  the  shore;  but  instead,  it  was  a  great 
coat  of  leaves  over  the  water.  The  river  was  quite 
deep  and  I  left  my  hat  floating  as  I  went  down.  When 
I  came  up  the  current  had  carried  me  down  stream  sev- 
eral feet  and  the  log  just  the  same  distance.  When  I 
came  up  I  was  faced  up  stream  and  when  I  could  see 
at  all  there  was  the  end  of  that  log  right  close  to  my 
face.  A  quarter  of  a  minute  more  and  it  would  have 
pushed  me  right  into  the  bank.  I  seized  it  with  both 
hands  and  tried  to  shove'it  aside,  which  I  could  not  do, 
but  the  effort  moved  my  body  aside  so  that  the  log 
missed  me  as  it  burrowed  into  the  bank  a  little  way. 


64 

I  climbed  on  to  it  and  stepped  ashore,  and  kept  the 
river  clear,  thus  having  a  good  time  while  others  far- 
ther up  the  river  were  drawing  and  carrying  timbers 
like  oxen  to  get  them  afloat  again.  These  same  things 
we  did  day  after  day,  week  after  week,  and  if  one  man 
was  in  luck  another  was  out. 

Finally  the  weather  became  very  warm  and  the 
sun  shining  on  our  boots  had  a  scalding  effect  on  our 
feet,  causing  drops  of  pink  sweat  to  ooze  out  of  them 
during  the  evening  and  night,  which  caused  them  to 
be  very  sore,  and  we  had  to  hang  our  boots  in  the 
water  in  the  morning  before  we  put  them  on,  to  soften 
them  up  so  they  would  not  pinch  our  feet  as  we  pulled 
them  on. 

One  day,  about  the  last  of  June,  the  foreman  said 
this  drive  will  hang  up  for  the  present.  He  had  ord- 
ers to  leave  it  and  go  to  another  drive  and  get  that  out 
to  Grand  Traverse  Bay.  We  went  to  Traverse  City 
and  drew  our  pay.  The  wages  being  two  dollars  a 
day  for  river  men.  The  foreman  told  the  paymaster 
that  I  was  a  learner,  and  he  should  give  me  first  sea- 
son's pay,  which  was  but  one  dollar  and  twenty-five 
cents  a  day.  So  it  did  not  pay  me  to  lie  to  the  fore- 
man, if  I  could  fool  the  other  men.  I  think  if  I  had 
said,  I  want  to  learn  and  will  work  for  what  I  am 
worth  I  should  have  drawn  more  pay. 


65 

SECTION   X. 

About  the  last  of  June,  eighteen  eighty-three,  I  went 
to  see  my  brother,  who  was  then  living  at  Crooked 
Lake,  about  fifteen  miles  from  Cadilac,  and  two  miles 
east  of  the  camp  where  we  first  worked  together  for 
Mr.  Lillie.  There  was  at  this  time,  two  saw  mills 
there,  one  belonging  to  Mitchell  brothers,  the  other  to 
Dewing  and  Sons. 

My  brother  was  working  for  the  latter.  He  liked 
to  work  in  a  mill,  but  I  preferred  the  logging  camps. 
While  there,  I  also  met  our  old  friend  Bill  Harring- 
ton, who  was  engaged  as  watchman  at  the  camp  build- 
ings of  D.  A.  Blodget,  which  were  located  only  about 
a  mile  from  there,  and  were  idle  during  the  fore  part 
of  the  summer.  There  was  danger  of  fire  getting 
started  in  the  brush,  scattered  over  the  ground,  where 
timber  was  cut  the  winter  before.  Bill  was  employed 
at  watching  the  camp  and  washing  the  blankets  used 
in  the  bunks.  He  had  a  snap  and  could  catch  up  his 
rifle  any  time  toward  night  and  take  a  little  exercise 
across  the  runways  with  which  he  was  familiar.  On 
the  evening  that  I  saw  him  first  at  the  village  he  was 
at  the  meat  market  trying  to  sell  one  of  his  targets,  but 
as  the  people  had  decided  to  protect  the  game  of  the 
state  and  there  was  a  fine  placed  on  the  killing  of 
many  animals,  such  bargains  were  rejected  by  this 
dealer.  Bill  said  to  me,  "I've  left  my  knife  and  must 
go  and  get  it/'  asking  me  to  walk  out  there  with  him 
to  get  it.  There  was  yet  half  an  hour  before  dark,  and 
we  started  right  away.  We  walked  along  the  tote 


66 

road  where  supplies  were  hauled  to  several  camps.  He 
said,  "You  had  better  come  over  to  the  camp  and  ask 
for  a  job  of  sawing;  they  are  going  to  start  up  now  in 
a  short  time,  and  I  am  going  to  do  the  filing."  I  said 
that  it  was  skidding  work  that  I  wanted,  and  he  said 
"All  right,  they  are  having  the  oxen  brought  in  from 
the  grazing  farm,  and  they  will  be  in  good  shape  for 
business,  and  I  will  recommend  you  as  all  right  at 
skidding."  We  had  not  gone  over  one-half  mile  when 
Bill  turned  from  the  road  into  the  woods.  The  trees 
were  Norway  pine,  but  the  bushes  were  white  oak. 
We  had  walked  only  about  twenty  rods  among  these 
when  he  stooped  down  and  picked  up  his  knife.  A 
swarm  of  flies  were  buzzing  around  the  edge  of  a 
clump  of  bushes.  Bill  stepped  over  there,  and  with 
his  foot  threw  out  the  head  of  a  three-year-old  buck. 
The  horns  being  in  the  velvet.  We  walked  back  to 
the  road  and  Bill,  being  now  close  to  his  camp,  pro- 
ceeded on  his  way  with  my  promise  to  come  and  ask 
for  a  job,  which  I  did  some  days  later. 

This  was  twenty-three  years  back  in  the  past,  and 
Bill  was  getting  close  to  fifty  years  of  age  at  that  time, 
and  no  doubt  that  mis-educated  picture  of  Abe  Lin- 
coln has  ceased  to  lean  over  the  saw  with  his  eight- 
inch  file,  or  listen  at  a  runway  for  the  kchip  kchip  of  a 
deer's  feet  as  he  gallops  along,  and  the  deputy  fish 
and  game  warden  cannot  find  him,  so  I  do  him  no  harm 
in  making  known  this  secret  of  his  woods  life. 

The  Fourth  of  July  was  a  day  never  to  be  forgotten. 
Just  the  same  as  any  other  Fourth  of  July  in  the  lum- 
ber woods  when  the  saloons  are  allowed  to  remain 


67 

open.  The  mills  and  camps  close  down  and  all  hands- 
go  to  town.  They  are  quite  apt  to  draw  all  their  pay 
and  use  all  they  draw.  The  village  of  Crooked  Lake 
was  small  but  hustling,  and  the  two  hundred  men 
working  there,  and  in  the  camps  that  belonged  to  the 
companies  that  owned  the  mills,  could  easily  invest 
their  wages  at  a  couple  of  places  in  town.  There  was 
no  holiday  closing  law  to  curtail  business,  or  interfere 
with  the  noise  one  ought  to  make  when  he  is  happy. 
If  you  ever  decide  to  follow  camp  life,  begin  at  this 
date,  go  on  the  evening  of  the  third  to  the  town  nearest 
to  the  camp  where  you  are  going  to  start  work.  In 
the  first  place,  go  to  the  hotel  where  all  the  boys  put 
up,  and  ask  for  a  cheap  bed,  no  matter  how  much 
money  you  have,  for  you  want  to  stand  in  with  the 
fellows.  This  is  the  way  to  get  acquainted  with  them. 
Pay  your  bill  for  over  the  Fourth,  that  is  two  nights 
and  one  day,  as  you  will  have  no  money  by  the  morn- 
of  the  fifth.  Soon  after  supper  you  wrill  see  some  of 
the  men  coming  in  and  doing  just  what  you  did;  that 
will  be  some  evidence  that  you  are  one  of  them.  The 
younger  ones  will  be  dressed  most  as  well  as  yourself. 
When  they  have  registered  and  say,  one  to  another, 
"where  first?"  for  they  will  come  in  two  or  more,  at 
a  time.  You  look  at  the  book;  if  following  their 
names  it  reads  from  the  camp  where  you  are  going, 
follow  them  up  and  say,  "I  see  by  the  book  that  you 
are  from  where  I  am  going  to  work  after  the  fourth." 
They  will  be  interested  and  ask  you  to  come  along 
and  have  a  drink,  and  you  must  go.  I  advise  you  to 
show  your  money  by  some  means,  before  you  get  to 


68 

a  saloon,  as  they  will  not  fail  to  need  more  than  they 
have  and  will  be  apt  to  let  you  know  that  they  are 
short  this  evening.  Tell  them  that  you  are  all  right, 
board  paid  and  a  bunch  left.  That  shows  that  you 
are  green  and  they,  in  all  probability  will  want  to 
borrow.  Lend  them  what  they  ask  for,  and  if  they 
do  not  need  it  all  you  had  better  stop  and  say  you 
have  got  to  go  back  to  the  hotel  to  see  some  one  else. 
Work  the  same  game  until  you  have  gotten  rid  of  all 
your  money.  It's  the  best  way  for  you  to  start  in. 
Once  rid  of  your  money  so  that  you  can  say  that  you 
are  broke  then  you  are  ready  to  go  and  see  the  town. 
You  will  notice  that  the  middle-aged  and  older  men 
from  the  camp  do  not  dress  well.  The  ones  that  act 
pleasant  at  all  will  be  right  anxious  to  show  you 
around.  They  will  soon  stop  at  a  bar  and  look  at  you. 
You  say,  "I  am  dead  broke/'  they  will  want  to  go 
and  see  another  fellow.  If  you  cannot  see  anything 
interesting  ask  some  fellow  that  is  drinking  to  show 
you  one  of  the  back  streets  where  a  little  noise  won't 
be  noticed.  Some  one  will  accommodate  you  this 
much,  but  will  expect  to  be  treated  for  it,  and  will 
approach  the  bar.  You  had  better  tell  him  that  you 
had  so  much  at  supper  time,  and  now  you  are  busted. 
He  will  quite  likely  say  "You  are  the  stuff,"  and  shake 
your  hand,  and  if  he  has  ten  cents  will  ask  you  to  have 
a  glass  of  beer.  You  better  say  "I  cannot  treat,  and 
I  won't  drink  after  my  money  is  gone."  He  will  insist 
that  you  shall  drink,  but  you  had  better  say,  "I  meant 
it,  and  I'll  be  shot  before  I'll  take  it,"  then  stay  by 
your  word  and  stay  at  this  place  until  midnight.  Say 


69 

as  little  as  possible,  but  keep  awake,  as  you  cannot 
dodge  a  flying  beer  glass  when  you  are  asleep.  No 
one  will  throw  one  at  you,  but  the  fellows  that  are 
around  the  bar  may  dodge  what  was  meant  for  them 
and  you  will  be  liable  to  get  it  unless  you  are  on  the 
look-out.  There  will  be  some  scientific  moves  among 
the  company  in  all  probability  that  will  help  keep  you 
awake,  but  don't  be  scared  when  two  men  fight,  for  it 
is  a  rare  thing  for  one  man  to  kill  another,  but  if  you 
see  three  men  attack  one,  go  and  call  the  village  mar- 
shal, for  it  is  not  a  real  fight ;  they  only  want,  under  the 
guise  of  just  a  scrap,  to  rob  him,  and  they  have  picked 
a  greeny  that  did  not  know  enough  to  give  his  money 
away,  and  save  his  head.  If  you  do  not  see  this  or 
anything  else  worth  losing  sleep  for,  go  to  your  room 
a  little  early,  say,  eleven-thirty,  and  make  a  guess 
whether  tomorrow  will  be  a  lively  day  or  not.  As 
you  tell  the  clerk  you  are  ready  to  go  to  your  room,  he 
will  say,  "Well,  have  you  been  having  a  good  time, 
and  have  you  anything  to  leave  in  the  safe?  We  are 
only  responsible  for  valuables  that  are  locked  in  the 
safe."  You  will  be  led  to  a  large  room  on  the  top 
floor.  There  are  about  eight  passable  looking  beds, 
each  with  two  pillows.  They  are  all  paid  for,  accord- 
ing to  the  number  of  pillows.  Likely  as  not  you  are 
the  first  one  in,  and  get  some  sleep  before  anyone 
else  is  brought  in,  and  quite  likely  that  is  about  all  you 
will  get,  if  you  are  at  all  nervous.  But  morning  will 
come,  bringing  with  it  the  most  quiet  hours  that  this 
room  has  had  since  one  o'clock.  Rise  to  a  sitting  po- 
sition and  look  at  the  other  fellow  in  your  bed.  If  he 


70 

is  asleep  and  the  rest  seem  to  be,  get  out  of  bed,  but 
do  not  put  on  your  clothes.  Be  careful  what  you 
step  on.  Probably  you  heard  something  crash  around 
the  room  during  the  night.  It  was  bottles,  and  the 
pieces  will  cut  your  feet,  but  go  any  way,  the  picture 
is  worth  the  effort.  Walk  from  one  bed  to  another, 
taking  a  look  at  every  face  that  is  not  covered  with 
bandages,  but  be  sure  you  remember  the  name  of  one 
of  the  fellows  that  you  lent  your  money  to.  As  you 
go,  if  any  one  is  covered  up,  pull  down  the  cover,  not 
stealthily,  but  just  respectful  and  business-like.  If 
any  one  should  awake — which  is  very  unlikely,  just 
say  you  did  not  know  who  it  was,  and  do  not  hesitate 
to  say  you  want  to  see  Tom  or  Joe,  or  whoever  it  was 
you  let  have  the  money,  for  indeed  you  will  want  him 
right  now.  Unless  this  acquaintance  knows  him  to 
be  in  the  room,  he  may  think  you  are  lying  and  want 
to  rob  some  one.  In  a  case  like  that,  you  are  liable  to 
get  hurt,  but  there  are  several  in  the  room  probably 
that  have  been  hurt  more  than  you,  and  you  will  take 
better  in  camp  with  a  black  eye  than  without  it.  But 
if  you  make  the  round  all  right,  and  I  feel  sure  you  can, 
then  return  to  bed,  and  as  it  is  so  early,  lie  down  and 
think  about  it,  how  this  one  and  that  one  feels,  and 
who  deserved  what  they  got,  and  what  they  will  look 
like  by  the  morning  of  the  fifth,  and  by  the  time  you 
get  these  things  all  nicely  estimated,  some  one  will 
wake  up  and  want  to  get  a  bottle  that  he  cannot  find. 
Trust  him  to  destroy  the  slumbers  of  some  one  else, 
and  that  one  will  be  mad.  If  you  are  on  the  back  side 
of  the  bed  you  can  lie  still  and  take  in  the  show.  This 


71 

is  starting  the  celebration,  you  know,  as  this  is  the 
morning  of  the  fourth.  When  there  is  a  return  to 
quiet,  or  something  approaching  it,  sit  up  and  take 
another  look.  Pull  on  your  clothes  and  go  out  for  a 
walk  before  breakfast  and  walk  fast,  go  by  the  door  of 
every  saloon  that  you  know  of,  and  as  you  come  close 
to  them  look  carefully  at  the  sidewalk,  and  see  whether 
any  one  bled  in  any  of  their  efforts  to  inaugurate  the 
"glorious  fourth."  See  what  they  ate  for  supper  and 
spewed  on  the  walks  to  be  seen  and  walked  over, 
around  and  through  by  decent  people.  By  the  time 
that  you  make  the  rounds  and  get  back  to  the  hotel 
you  will  not  care  to  eat  breakfast.  You  have  paid  for 
it,  to  be  sure,  but  so  have  the  rest  of  the  boys.  Get  a 
paper  from  the  desk,  take  a  chair  and  watch,  see  how 
many  from  your  room  eat  breakfast.  By  noon  you 
will  be  so  hungry  that  you  can  eat  the  two  meals  at 
one  sitting.  It  is  better  gotten  up  than  the  breakfast 
was,  and  you  have  won  a  point.  Now  it  will  be  hot 
in  the  afternoon,  and  you  had  better  take  a  place  in  the 
shade  near  the  jail,  anywhere  near  enough  so  you  can 
recognize  the  men  that  owe  you  money.  See  just 
what  per  cent  of  the  men  taken  there  are  those  you 
think  came  from  camp,  then  ask  the  marshal  for  his 
figures  on  the  question.  Then  if  you  want  another 
night  upstairs  and  a  life  in  camp  with  such  a  gang, 
with  a  very  small  sprinkling  of  others,  I  am  not  able 
to  help  you  farther.  Had  any  one  given  me  this  much 
of  a  pointer,  I  do  not  think  I  would  have  lived  where 
I  did  for  a  few  years.  I  was  possessed  with  some  good 
sense,  but  fell  under  wrong  influences.  Thus,  the  holi- 


72 

days  are  all  celebrated  by  most  of  the  single  men  who 
spend  their  lives  in  the  camps  of  the  lumber  states, 
railroad  builders,  stock  ranges  of  the  west,  and  the 
various  mines,  so  far  as  I  am  qualified  to  speak,  and  I 
have  worked  in  eight  timber  camps  and  eight  railroad 
and  street  grading  camps,  working  close  by  and  ming- 
ling with  men  from  more  than  twice  as  many  others, 
of  the  above  description.  After  the  regular  style  they 
celebrated  at  Crooked  Lake  this  year. 


SECTION  XL 

After  the  fourth  a  while  I  went  over  to  see  Bill  and 
ask  for  a  job.  I  met  Mr.  Clark,  the  walking  boss  for 
Mr.  Blodget;  he -had  the  oversight  of  all  his  lumbering 
operations,  embracing  several  camps,  and  the  building 
of  a  logging  railway  that  was  to  carry  all  the  logs  from 
two  camps  to  the  river.  Mr.  Clark  seemed  pleasant, 
saying,  "Yes,  we  want  ox  teamsters  after  a  week  or  so, 
and  I  will  have  Mr.  Poin — that  was  the  camp  fore- 
man— give  you  other  work  until  the  ox  work  begins, 
if  you  wish."  But  I  decided  not  to  work  u'ntil  he 
needed  me  to  drive  cattle.  When  they  were  brought 
there  were  five  yoke  in  all.  One  team  was  especially 
fine-looking,  entirely  white,  weighing  about  forty  hun- 
dred, with  fine  large  horns.  I  was  told  to  come  on  a 
certain  day,  and  I  went  the  evening  before  so  as  to  be 
on  hand  early.  The  teamsters  in  the  camp  had  a 
shanty  by  themselves,  and  this  was  a  good  plan,  too, 
for  they  have  to  get  up  earlier  than  the  other  men,  and 


73 

this  would  disturb  the  others.  It  is  also  more  pleasant 
to  be  in  smaller  numbers,  and  much  healthier.  Our 
capacity  was  eighteen  bunks,  and  all  were  full,  as 
there  were  more  drivers  of  horse  teams  than  oxen. 
The  ox  teams  had  all  been  at  work  two  days,  and 
four  men  had  picked  their  yoke  of  cattle  after  trying 
them  all.  Bill  told  me,  they  had  planned  to  let  the  old 
men  have  their  choice,  and  me  take  what  was  left. 
The  punchers — that  is  what  they  call  ox  drivers  in  the 
woods — however,  were  hardly  satisfied  among  them- 
selves. The  white  team  was  taken  for  keeps,  and  one 
pair  of  fine-looking  red  ones  by  a  man  that  was  pleased 
with  them,  thus  leaving  two  pair  of  four-year-olds 
that  were  good-looking  and  heavy  weighing,  from 
thirty  to  thirty-five  hundred  each  pair.  Two  were 
nicely  spotted  red  and  white.  The  other  pair  of  four- 
year-olds  were,  one  red  and  white  and  the  other  a 
brindle  black  color  with  a  sleepy  look.  I  did  not 
want  that  pair,  and  I  felt  sure^they  would  be  left  for 
me.  The  fifth  pair  stood  third  team  from  the  door; 
they  were  red  and  six  years  old,  not  weighing  over 
twenty-six  or  eight  hundred.  When  I  came  in  and 
looked  them  over  in  the  evening,  one  of  the  reds 
stepped  back  the  length  of  the  rope  he  was  tied  with, 
and  looked  at  me  with  his  head  up  like  a  two-year-old 
colt.  I  just  fell  in  love  with  him  right  then  and  there, 
but  his  mate  did  not  strike  me  so  favorably,  for  he  had 
vicious  looking  horns  and  eyes,  but  was  a  fine  deep 
red  color.  I  had  no  thought  of  getting  them.  I  had 
to  wait  until  morning  to  find  out  which  was  mine,  as 
they  would  not  tell  me.  I  thought  it  very  strange 


that  the  drivers  could  not  tell  me  at  once  which  they 
wanted.  This  satisfied  me  that  it  did  not  make  much 
difference  which  pair  I  got,  and  I  enjoyed  their  per- 
plexity more  than  they  did  their  privilege  to  choose. 
In  the  morning  there  were  four  pairs  yoked,  the  pair 
left  for  me  being  the  wild  red  ones.  I  went  in  between 
them  and  they  tried  to  shake  with  me  as  I  passed  their 
hind  feet.  I  spent  plenty  of  time  in  an  attempt  to 
brush  them  off  a  little  with  the  cattle  card,  and  as  I 
did  so,  there  were  several  men  watching  with  twink- 
ling eyes.  I  knew  that  they  were  very  wild  and  bad 
with  their  feet,  and  without  doubt  would  run  away 
and  make  lots  of  trouble  in  the  woods,  for  they  were 
ready  to  jump  into  the  manger,  stepping  constantly 
like  fiery  young  horses,  but  they  were  the  right  age, 
were  in  good  flesh  and  I  could  not  see  any  scars  on 
them  showing  that  they  had  never  been  in  any  serious 
accident,  and  the  yoke  standing  behind  them  was  a 
good  one.  I  was  afraid  of  only  one  thing,  they  might 
be  vicious  with  their  horns  when  being  yoked.  An 
ugly  ox  can  put  a  man  out  of  business.  You  have 
to  come  to  his  head  with  a  yoke  that  is  a  good  load 
to  carry,  and  it  makes  you  move  slowly.  One  of 
the  men  that  yoked  a  pair  of  the  young  cattle  stood 
near,  and  as  he  seemed  like  a  reasonable  acting  fellow, 
I  asked  him  if  they  were  bad  with  their  horns.  It  was 
more  than  evident  that  they  had  been  fooled  by  this 
pair  and  wanted  to  see  me  get  a  surprise.  He  said, 
"No,  they  do  not  use  their  horns,  but  will  kick  a  little." 
I  could  see  that  they  not  only  would  kick,  but  were 
afraid  of  being  punished  for  it.  I  felt  better  when 


75 

assured  that  they  did  not  use  their  horns,  but  I  would 
not  stop  currying  them  until  the  rest  of  the  fellows 
were  mostly  out  of  sight.  I  then  shortened  up  the 
rope  on  the  off  ox,  and  put  the  yoke  on  him.  I  untied 
the  other  from  the  manger  pole  and  backed  him  up 
holding  to  the  rope.  When  I  lifted  his  end  of  the 
yoke  with  the  other  hand  and  told  him  to  come  under, 
he  came  up  with  a  slam  against  the  other  ox  and  the 
manger,  and  I  had  a  time  to  get  him  over  toward  me 
far  enough  so  that  I  could  put  the  bow  in.  But  they 
were  finally  in  the  yoke  and  I  went  to  breakfast.  Just 
before  the  turn-out  cry  was  given,  we  were  sauntering 
out  to  the  stable,  and  to  my  surprise  the  walking  boss 
was  out  and  came  direct  to  me,  asking  which  team  I 
was  going  to  drive.  I  told  him  that  I  was  going  to 
try  the  wild  red  pair  as  they  were  not  yoked  by  any- 
one else.  He  said,  "Oh,  well !  you  won't  have  any 
trouble  with  him;  they  are  just  fresh  from  the  pas- 
ture ;  you  bring  them  out  last  so  that  the  other  teams 
will  not  be  crowding  around  the  watering  trough,  and 
you  won't  have  any  trouble."  But  I  saw  that  he  was 
much  interested.  It  is  an  unusual  thing  for  the  walker 
to  take  any  interest  in  a  yoke  of  cattle,  as  only  the 
foreman  has  anything  to  say  about  such  things.  I 
was  not  afraid  that  I  could  not  get  control  of  them, 
but  I  was  sure  that  they  would  put  the  laugh  on  me 
for  a  few  days.  When  I  dropped  the  rope  off  of  the 
off  ox,  I  stood  at  his  side,  for  the  door  was  in  that 
direction,  and  I  expected  the  show  to  begin  when 
they  were  loose  from  the  manger,  and  was  not  dis- 
appointed. He  was  the  worst  one,  and  he  made  two 


76 

or  three  springs  that  carried  him  around  the  other  ox 
and  turned  him  around,  facing  them  toward  the  door, 
which  brought  the  nigh  one  to  my  right  arm.  They 
were  snorting  wild,  indeed.  I  stepped  right  in 
front  of  them  and  stopped  them,  keeping  up  a  steady 
game  of  low  words  and  slow  motions,  looking  them 
right  in  the  face.  After  keeping  them  there  about  a 
minute,  we  walked  out  to  the  watering  trough.  They 
were  thirsty  from  eating  timothy  hay  and  drank  long. 
The  foreman  came  along — a  Frenchman  by  the  name 
of  Maxim  Poin,  he  spoke  broken  English — and  said, 
"You  drive  rhed  auksin,  eh !  You  go  and  build  skid- 
ways  ;  this  man  will  show  you  the  way'7 ;  then  he 
turned  and  left  me  with  the  swamper.  I  asked  him  if 
there  was  a  chain  out  there,  and  he  said  all  the  tools 
were  where  they  quit  the  night  before.  I  kept  my 
hand,  or  else  the  end  of  my  whip-stalk  on  the  neck  of 
the  nigh  ox  all  the  time  after  they  began  drinking 
until  we  were  at  the  skidway  opening.  Three  other 
ox-teams  were  going  to  work  close  by,  but  all  were 
idle,  each  driver  having  four  swampers,  and  all  were 
looking  my  way,  but  I  tried  to  appear  not  to  notice  it. 
The  chain  was  on  the  end  of  one  of  the  longest  skids 
that  I  had  ever  seen.  The  timber  was  all  Norway 
pine,  very  tall  and  smooth,  furnishing  some  of  the 
choicest  timbers  for  skids.  I  did  not  let  the  cattle  stop 
until  they  stood  by  the  chain,  then  picking  up  the 
chain  I  just  run  a  few  links  through  the  grab  ring  of 
the  yoke  and  dropped  it  in  the  slot  and  stepped  away, 
trying  to  assume  an  unconcerned  manner.  Most  of 
the  way  out  from  camp  the  off  ox  had  insisted  on 


77 

keeping  his  head  far  enough  ahead  of  his  mate  so  that 
he  could  see  me  with  his  left  eye  all  the  time,  acting 
as  though  he  was  ready  for  war,  either  offensive  or 
defensive,  and  he  did  not  care  which.  Once  they  were 
fast  to  the  skid,  which  had  been  drawn  part  way  from 
its  stump  to  the  opening  which  was  partly  prepared 
for  the  skidway,  I  felt  much  better  than  while  on  the 
way  from  camp.  Bill  Carson  was  the  driver  of  the 
spotted  pair  of  four-year-olds,  and  he  was  at  the  next 
skidway.  I  left  my  crew,  not  yet  really  knowing 
which  were  my  men,  except  the  one  that  led  the  way 
from  camp.  It  was  just  showing  respect  to  go  and 
ask  Carson  how  high  the  skids  had  to  be  for  this  car 
line,  and  get  up  a  talk  that  baffled  the  bunch  of  men 
who  thought  they  would  wait  and  see  me  start  the 
team.  They  had  to  go  to  their  several  places  and  get 
busy  before  the  foreman  would  come  along.  I  kept 
an  eye  on  my  team,  half  expecting  to  see  some  one 
pitch  a  chunk  at  them,  just  for  fun.  When  the  crowd 
was  mostly  gone,  I  went  back  and  said,  "Whoever  is 
my  crew,  tackle  this  knoll  and  finish  that  tree."  The 
trees  had  to  be  cut  level  with  the  earth,  and  it  was  a 
hard  task  to  make  room  for  the  unusually  long  skid- 
ways  required  by  the  foreman,  but  he  gave  four 
men  to  chop  trees,  and  grub  and  shovel  off  the  knolls, 
and  saw  up  the  useful  trees  so  we  could  draw  them 
out  of  the  opening.  When  they  went  to  work,  which 
they  did  with  a  prompt  but  disappointed  air,  I  went 
and  looked  around  to  my  heart's  content.  The  ex- 
tremely long  skid  to  which  the  team  was  chained,  lay 
so  that  it  was  bound  between  standing  trees,  but  the 


78 

leaves  were  scraped  away  on  one  side  at  the  large  end 
of  it,  showing  that  the  team  had  been  pulling  sideways 
the  day  before.  The  ground  being  yellow  sand,  was 
torn  up,  and  there  was  ox  hair  on  knots  and  logs.  I 
could  read  the  signs  and  it  gave  me  a  pointer. 

In  sawing  logs  I  had  seen  lots  of  good  skidders  doing 
fine  service  with  light  teams,  and  had  seen  men  get 
mad  and  abuse  good  teams,  and  make  them  wild,  and 
right  here  I  saw  the  interpretation  of  the  puzzle  that 
the  ox-teamsters  were  in  the  evening  before.  A  good 
team,  ox,  mule  or  horse,  hates  to  pull  their  best  and 
then  have  their  load  pull  them  back  when  they  give 
up  trying  to  fetch  it.  I  let  the  cattle  stand  about  half 
an  hour  and  started  in  by  drawing  some  short  logs, 
leaving  the  chain  very  long;  at  first  they  would  kick 
every  time  the  chain  was  stirred,  but  they  were  living 
on  the  experience  of  yesterday  about  all  day.  Only 
when  it  was  almost  night  did  one  of  my  swampers  say 
"They  had  that  team  out  here  yesterday  and  could  do 
nothing  with  it  at  all/'  In  a  few  days  they  were  by 
far  the  best  team  of  the  three  by  a  great  difference. 
It  was  very  seldom  that  I  spoke  to  them  as  loudly  as 
to  the  swampers,  for  they  obeyed  in  a  way  that  pleased 
me  well.  About  the  third  or  fourth  day  that  I  drove 
them,  some  time  during  the  day,  there  was  a  great 
tearing  in  the  bushes,  and  the  click,  click  of  the  ring  in 
the  yoke  told  that  a  pair  of  oxen  was  running  away. 
I  quickly  fastened  mine — or  they  would  have  joined  in 
the  race.  I  cannot  say  that  I  did  not  laugh  when 
those  cattle  went  tearing  along  in  a  circle  clear  around 
our  scope  of  vision.  There  were  some  significant 


79 

glances  passed  around  among  my  swampers,  and  the 
next  gang  which  was  close  by.  I  did  not  dare  to 
laugh  much,  for  my  team  was  often  at  the  point  of 
leaving  me,  and  liable  to  go  any  time,  but  I  was  pleased 
at  the  turn  that  was  taking  place  in  our  affairs. 

For  more  than  a  month  I  never  unhitched  from  a 
heavy  log  as  soon  as  it  was  where  it  was  to  be  left, 
for  the  cattle  were  so  excited  that  they  would  have 
left  me  in  an  instant,  so  I  allowed  them  to  stand  a  few 
minutes  and  quiet  down,  but  their  lively  movements 
always  made  my  tally  as  good,  or  better,  than  the 
others,  after  we  started  to  skid  logs,  which  was  inside 
of  a  month  from  the  time  we  began  to  build  skid- 
ways. 

I  could  hardly  see  the  foreman  at  all  except  in  camp 
in  the  morning.  I  think,  however,  that  he  sometimes 
saw  the  team  and  myself  when  I  did  not  know  it.  He 
seemed  to  have  named  me  that  first  morning  by  the 
watering  trough.  When  there  was  some  little  chore 
like  pulling  a  big  log  or  stump  out  of  the  way  of  the 
grading  gang  who  were  preparing  the  road-bed  for 
the  logging  train,  he  would  come  into  our  shanty, — 
which  stood  five  or  six  rods  from  the  main  sleeping 
shanty, — and  in  his  quick  half-comic  way  would  say, 
"You  rhedauksin,  where  are  you?"  I  always  stood  up 
as  promptly  or  more  so,  than  if  he  had  called  my  cor- 
rect name,  and  received  my  orders.  The  speed  with 
which  I  could  catch  up  a  few  tools  and  follow  down 
the  grade  of  the  logging  road  to  the  construction  gang, 
then  back  to  my  skidding  made  my  team  the  choice 
for  such  jobs.  One  time  there  was  a  very  large  white 


80 

pine  stump  in  the  way  of  the  grading  crew  that  had 
taken  several  men  that  many  days  to  cut  it  loose.  It 
was  so  large  that  it  took  about  fourteen  feet  of  chain 
to  go  around  it  at  the  top  and  the  lower  part  was  twice 
that  large  where  the  roots  had  been  cut  off  to  loosen 
it.  At  the  first  pull  it  did  not  come,  and  the  next  time 
the  chain  broke,  then  I  had  to  hurry,  for  the  cattle 
were  snorting  mad.  I  had  goaded  them  a  little, 
not  thinking  of  them  getting  loose  from  the  stump, 
which  went  back  into  the  hole,  nearly  crushing  some 
Swedish  men  who  had  been  told  by  the  boss  to  lift 
and  pry  in  concert  with  the  oxen.  The  cattle  had  to 
ride  down  some  small  saplings  to  get  away  into  the 
woods,  but  I  was  lucky  and  whipped  around  in  front 
of  them  and  seized  the  nigh  one  by  the  horn,  speaking 
just  the  same  as  I  would  to  a  frightened  child,  and 
he  gave  it  up.  Tom,  as  I  called  the  off  one,  still  trying 
to  take  Bill  along,  and  running  around  in  a  circle  with 
him  and  myself  in  the  center.  I  always  cultivated  the 
confidence  of  Bill,  and  now  I  had  gotten  my  pay,  for 
he  alone  could  keep  Tom  for  me.  Right  there  I  got 
a  lesson  that  I  thereafter  used,  so  when  it  seemed  nec- 
essary to  urge  them  to  greater  effort  I  would  reach 
over  Bill  and  punch  Tom,  and  there  would  be  some- 
thing doing  right  away,  but  I  still  had  quite  a  string  on 
Bill,  so  to  speak,  for  he  would  heed  me  when  told  to 
stop.  Another  effort  brought  out  the  stump,  and 
Rhedauksin  was  cheered  by  the  Swedes. 

There  was  a  tract  of  white  pine  being  cut,  down 
toward  the  river,  about  a  mile  from  camp.  The  logs 
were  much  larger  than  the  Norway  pine,  and  I  was  a 


81 

little  surprised  when  "Rhedauksin"  was  detailed  to 
go  there  and  skid  them,  but  I  had  my  own  way  about 
it,  and  took  what  time  I  needed  to  get  them  on  the 
skids,  which  I  did  by  all  the  tricks  that  I  had  ever 
seen  practiced.  Sometimes  rolling  them  most  of  the 
way  and  thus  saving  the  strength  of  the  little  team, 
which  looked  small  by  the  side  of  the  others,  especially 
the  white  ones,  but  they  were  the  best  team,  to  my 
notion,  and  I  enjoyed  driving  them. 

The  usual  routine  of  camp  incidents  took  place. 
Before  snow  came  the  logging  train  was  running  to 
the  river.  The  brakeman  was  Jack  McGuire,  a  fine- 
looking  man  about  thirty  years  old,  married  and  living 
in  an  old  house  about  a  mile  from  camp.  One  evening 
some  of  the  men  took  a  hound  that  was  harbored  about 
the  camp,  and  went  out  to  see  if  they  could  find  a 
coon.  Nothing  seemed  to  have  made  a  move  that 
evening  along  the  river,  and  all  hands  and  the  dog 
started  for  camp,  getting  as  far  as  where  McGuire  and 
his  family  were  sleeping,  when  there  was  a  lone  skunk 
picking  up  the  crumbs  about  the  door-yard,  and  the 
dog  dispatched  him  right  there.  There  was  an  un- 
fortunate distribution  of  perfume,  both  for  some  of 
the  hunters  and  the  McGuire  family.  It  was  never 
settled  as  to  whom  the  joke  was  on.  Jack  said  he 
thought  that  any  one  was  mean  to  come  and  kill  his 
cat,  the  only  pet  he  had. 

One  other  fellow  had  a  joke  sprung  on  him  that  was 
meant  to  be  serious,  but  resulted  in  much  laughter. 
One  Saturday  evening  a  number  of  men,  as  was  the 
custom,  went  to  the  Crooked  Lake  saloon.  On  the 


82 

way  back  there  was  trouble,  as  usual.  Two  men  were 
having  it  out  in  a  way  that  exceeded  the  common 
practice,  when  this  man,  a  well  able  fellow,  thought  it 
time  to  interfere  to  prevent  murder.  The  combatants 
were  both  down,  and  as  their  friend  came  up  to  part 
them  one  said  to  him,  "Keep  back  or  I  will  cut  your 
heart  out,"  but  he  saw  that  some  one  was  going  to  be 
hurt  pretty  seriously,  and  took  his  chance.  In  the 
scuffle  that  followed,  the  man  that  threatened  him 
thrust  back  at  him  with  a  knife,  the  point  catching  him 
just  at  the  hip  pocket,  running  down  and  making  a 
slit  seven  or  eight  inches  long  in  his  clothes,  not  hurt- 
ing him  much.  His  overalls  were  brown  denim.  On 
Sunday  he  sewed  it  up  with  white  wrapping  twine, 
which,  unfortunately  for  him,  attracted  much  atten- 
tion, to  what  the  men  termed  the  location  of  his  heart. 
I  will  give  one  more  incident  that  happened  in  this 
camp  which  tends  to  show  the  carelessness  of  the 
young,  and  the  nervousness  of  the  old  who  follow  a 
camp  laborer's  life.  There  were  two  common  Cana- 
dian men  in  the  camp — I  think  they  were  sawyers — 
and  their  name  was  Gunn.  Along  about  the  time  that 
the  snow  was  getting  deep  a  brother  of  theirs  came 
from  Canada.  He  was  younger  than  they,  perhaps 
twenty-one,  and  had  a  peculiar  looking  face,  quite 
different  from  his  brothers.  His  nose  was  exceed- 
ingly prominent  and  with  his  sharp,  protruding  bullet- 
like  eyes  he  was  very  noticeable.  At  once  the  men 
named  him  "Repeater."  One  evening  when  I  was 
over  to  their  shanty  sitting  on  the  bench, — as  we  all 
went  back  and  forth  evenings  to  see  what  was  going 


83 

on, — Repeater  was  lying  in  one  of  the  top  bunks  read- 
ing by  the  light  of  a  lantern.  There  were  boxes  of 
sawdust  standing  around  for  the  men  to  spit  in,  and 
once  in  a  while  he  would  turn  his  face  from  his  novel, 
or  whatever  he  was  heading,  and  aim  at  the  nearest 
box,  thus  proving  his  right  to  his  title,  Repeater.  But 
the  heroine  in  the  novel  or  something  else,  distracted 
his  attention  from  correct  aim,  and  he  missed  the  box 
one  time,  but  hit  what,  if  it  had  been  well  trained 
when  young,  might  have  been  a  man,  and  possibly  a 
gentleman.  It  wras  about  fifty  years  old  with  emaciat- 
ed face  and  hard-looking  clothes,  and  a  flow  of  lan- 
guage only  equaled  by  his  rage.  He  seized  an  ax  that 
was  close  at  hand  and  started  for  the  man  in  the 
bunk.  Repeater  was  scared,  but  also  desperate,  and 
he  reached  up  to  where  hung  his  old-fashioned  double- 
barreled  shotgun.  When  the  old  fellow  was  up  far 
enough  for  us  below  to  think  of  pulling  him  back  down, 
Repeater  stuck  the  muzzle  of  his  shotgun  down,  and 
was  ready  to  pull  the  trigger.  We  thought  it  was 
better  to  let  them  alone  than  to  face  the  charge  of 
shot,  so  stood  back.  When  the  old  man — if  I  must  so 
misuse  the  term  on  him — saw  the  muzzle  of  the  gun 
right  close  to  his  head,  he  let  go  and  dropped  down. 
Somewhat  scared,  but  not  discouraged,  he  charged 
back  and  forth  across  the  room  along  the  line  of  bunks. 
He  wanted  to  get  up  somewhere,  and  follow  around  to 
where  Gunn  was.  Some  yelled  one  thing  at  him,  and 
some  another.  He  knew  that  if  ,the  shotgun  was  load- 
ed he  could  not  get  close  enough  to  use  his  ax.  I 
think  he  would  have  been  willing  to  have  been  shot 


84 

if  he  could  have  delivered  one  blow  with  the  ax.  He 
swung  it  about  and  wanted  to  throw  it,  but  he  had  to 
consider  the  crowd  at  his  back,  where  the  two  other 
Gunn  boys  were  anxious  to  clinch  with  him,  but 
were  afraid  of  the  ax.  The  yelling  raised  the  men 
over  at  the  office,  and  they  came  running  over  and 
entered  at  the  end  of  the  room  that  had  been  cleared 
by  the  ax.  Mr.  Clark  told  him  to  put  it  down.  That 
drew  his  attention,  and  it  was  soon  taken  from  him, 
and  he  received  his  time  check  and  left  the  next  day 
for  Cadilac.  I  do  not  remember  that  Repeater  was 
criticised  for  his  poor  aim. 

I  never  enjoyed  camp  life  like  some  of  those  who 
follow  it,  but  I  did  like  my  spry  red  cattle,  and  they 
came  to  have  confidence  in  me,  and  would  obey  so 
readily  that  it  brought  me  not  only  the  name  of  Rhed- 
auksin,  but  also  that  of  a  good  skidder,  and  when  I 
left  the  camp  Mr.  Clark  urged  me  to  come  back  again 
and  drive  the  wild  team. 


SECTION  XII. 

One  summer  about  the  first  of  June,  I  decided  to  go 
to  the  Hannah  and  Lay  saw  mill,  at  Long  Lake  and 
ask  for  a  job  there.  I  came  to  the  mill  about  five 
o'clock  p.  m.  I  had  never  liked  mill  work,  and  did  not 
want  to  go  inside  to  work,  but  I  would  work  on  the 
boom  or  at  piling  lumber,  if  there  was  an  opening  for 
me. 

I  walked  around  to  the  water  side  of  the  mill ;  there  I 


85 

saw  one  of  the  men  that  had  been  in  the  Platte  river 
crew  when  I  first  joined  it.  We  had  a  friendly  chat. 
Among  other  things,  he  said,  "You  be  on  hand  and 
you  can  have  this  job  in  a  few  days,  for  I  am  going 
to  quit  pretty  soon."  That  was  pleasing  to  me,  and 
I  went  to  see  the  overseer  whose  name  was  James 
Harvey.  This  man  was  a  gentleman,  and  the  only 
one  I  had  found  in  my  experience  in  the  lumber  woods. 
He  questioned  me  a  little  about  where  I  had  been  at 
work,  and  then  said  he  would  give  me  work  hauling 
out  edgings  while  my  friend  remained  at  the  boom,  and 
that  job  when  he  left  it,  but  he  also  very  kindly  ad- 
vised me  to  rest  for  a  day  or  two  and  take  care '  of 
myself,  of  which  there  was  great  need  indeed.  I  rested 
a  few  days,  and  then  started  to  work.  I  bunked  with 
my  river  chum,  and  became  quite  well  acquainted  with 
him.  He  was  of  a  pleasant  disposition  usually  and 
seemingly  proof  against  excitement.  I  thought  him  a 
capital  chum,  especially  after  he  came  to  my  relief  one 
night  in  an  alley  at  Traverse  City,  where  I  was  in  the 
uncomfortable  embrace  of  a  large  sailor,  who  was 
bound  to  put  his  hand  in  my  pocket.  He  was  a  large 
powerful  man  and  had  a  firm  grip  on  my  neck  before 
I  knew  there  was  any  trouble  coming,  and  I  soon  need- 
ed help,  but  my  friend  soon  set  me  free.  After  that 
he  could  borrow  money  of  me  as  long  as  I  had  any, 
his  desire  on  that  line  being  limited  only  by  the  size 
of  my  purse,  and  he  never  returned  a  dollar,  nor  ever 
intended  to.  Still  he  left  the  job  at  the  mill  for  me 
after  about  two  weeks.  He  had  been  a  good  man  on 
the  boom,  and  a  good  fellow  with  the  men. 


86 

I  had  no  fears  of  any  trouble  with  the  boom  work. 
All  I  had  done  in  these  two  weeks  was  to  handle  nar- 
row strips  that  were  trimmed  off  from  the  sides  of  the 
thin  boards.  This  had  rested  me  out  somewhat.  I 
took  the  peevy  and  a  long  pole  with  a  pike  iron  and 
hook  at  one  end,  properly  called  a  pike  pole;  with 
these  I  brought  the  logs  which  were  inside  the  boom- 
sticks,  to  the  place  where  they  were  to  start  up  a 
smooth  chute  into  the  mill.  The  saws  were  all  on 
the  second  floor,  and  the  chute  was  built  of  very  thick 
maple  planks,  extending  down  into  the  water  about 
ten  feet,  and  up  just  to  a  perfect  level  with  the  second 
floor.  This  chute  was  about  six  feet  wide  and  forty- 
five  long,  while  up  the  middle  ran  a  very  large  endless 
chain,  always  running  up,  when  the  man  in  charge  at 
the  upper  end  threw  on  the  power,  which  he  seldom 
did  without  looking  down  to  see  whether  there  were 
any  logs  fastened  on  for  him.  They  were  fastened  to 
the  large  chain  by  short  chains  about  six  feet  long, 
which  had  a  hook  on  one  end  that  was  made  especially 
for  catching  into  the  links  of  the  large  endless  chain, 
the  other  end  having  an  iron  dog  that  was  driven  by 
the  aid  of  a  sledge  into  the  side  of  each  log,  close  to  the 
end.  On  each  side  of  this  chute  was  pinned  a  square 
timber  perhaps  eight  inches  high  to  keep  the  logs  from 
rolling  off  when  they  were  going  up  or  down,  for  they 
did  sometimes  accidentally  come  down.  When  the 
logs  reached  the  top  of  the  chute  they  continued  to 
run  up  at  the  same  angle  until  more  than  half  of  the 
weight  was  above  a  level  with  the  floor;  then  they 
broke  over  and  slid  along  the  floor  the  rest  of  the  way. 


87 

At  the  point  where  the  log  ran  higher  than  the  floor  it 
caused  the  short  chain  to  draw  different  than  when 
either  on  the  chute  or  the  floor,  and  that  sometimes 
loosened  the  dog  and  sometimes  the  log  fell  on  the 
floor,  and  at  other  times  it  started  back  down  the  chute. 
At  first  I  hardly  knew  what  to  do  with  myself  when 
one  started  down.  At  one  side  of  the  chute  there  was 
a  line  of  hewed  boomsticks  run  straight  out  into  the 
lake;  these  were  pinned  together  instead  of  being 
chained  the  usual  way,  and  this  made  a  good  solid 
footing  for  working  on  in  drawing  or  pushing  logs  up 
toward  the  mouth  of  the  chute,  where  they  lay  while 
being  dogged.  Usually  as  soon  as  I  had  one  set  of 
logs  ready  to  go  up,  I  brought  several  more  close  up  to 
them,  so  as  to  be  prepared  to  dog  another  load  at  once, 
nearly  always  sending  more  than  one  at  a  time.  When 
a  log  came  back  down  the  chute,  by  the  time  it  reached 
the  water  it  would  be  coming  with  great  speed,  and  it 
would  fill  the  air  with  water  for  a  long  distance  out  on 
the  boom.  When  I  first  saw  one  coming  down,  I  made 
a  race  out  on  the  boom  timbers,  and  caught  a  good 
soaking,  but  was  out  there  ready  to  bring  in  the  logs 
which  were  scattered  by  the  unruly  one.  I  however, 
soon  learned  the  point  on  the  boomstick  where  I  had 
best  run  ashore  from,  and  if  I  was  farther  out  on  the 
lake  than  there,  I  ran  out  when  a  log  started  for  a 
dive. 

I  had  only  worked  at  this  job  about  two  weeks  when 
Mr.  Harvey  told  me  that  my  wages  were  raised  from 
eighty-five  cents  to  one  dollar  a  day  and  board.  There 
was  a  man  among  the  crew  of  lumber  pilers  who  was 


83 

very  quiet  usually,  but  if  he  did  say  anything,  was 
quite  apt  to  precede  it  with  a  long-drawn  w-a-1  for 
well,  who  had  been  out  west  once,  and  thought  of  go- 
ing again.  He  liked  railroad  work,  and  said  he  could 
get  me  a  job  without  trouble.  I  slowly  came  to  the 
conclusion  to  go  west.  I  liked  my  work  and  stood 
in  well  with  the  men,  and  really  had  no  reasonable 
excuse  for  leaving  it,  but  I  had  become  restless,  so  I 
told  Mr.  Harvey  that  I  would  quit  work  on  a  certain 
night.  He  was  very  much  disappointed  and  advised 
me  to  stay.  Many  times  since  I  have  heartily  wished 
I  had,  but  I  was  far  from  doing  things  right,  or  even 
trying  to. 

When  that  evening  came  I  rode  on  the  last  load  of 
logs  I  sent  up  into  the  mill ;  there  were  three  of  them, 
and  as  they  started  I  seized  my  pikepole  and  peevy, 
and  rode  up  into  the  mill  on  the  largest  one.  The 
men  were  astonished  when  my  head  and  shoulders 
came  into  sight.  When  the  logs  broke  over  on  the 
floor,  they  rolled  and  bumped  a  little,  but  I  expected 
that,  for  I  had  been  watching  them  do  that  for  weeks, 
and  was  on  my  guard  and  ready  for  it.  The  men 
cheered  me  a  little,  but  it  was  not  a  very  remarkable 
feat,  for  if  the  log  had  broken  from  the  dog  I  could 
have  easily  dropped  down  on  the  chute  and  my  river 
calks  would  have  caught  on  the  maple  planks  and 
held  me  if  I  could  have  kept  my  balance,  and  being 
much  of  my  time  on  the  tetering,  turning  logs,  I  was 
very  good  at  balancing  my  body,  though  neglectful  of 
my  mind,  and  extensive  effort  at  keeping  it  well  bal- 
anced. I  was  nineteen  years  of  age,  and  hardly  fit 


89 

for  the  sixth  grade  in  school,  and  only  learning  the 
miserable  things  of  life  in  camp.  Say,  friend!  What 
are  you  doing  on  this  line?  What  are  you  going  to 
know  at  the  age  of  nineteen?  It  is  only  a  desire  to 
aid  you  that  makes  me  recite  this  experience  of  mine. 
I  want  you  to  pursue  a  better  course. 

Freem  and  I  took  the  train  for  the  west  at  Traverse 
City  via  Grand  Rapids  and  Chicago.  As  ever,  there 
were  plenty  of  novels  on  the  cars,  and  I  purchased 
them.  They  helped  to  pass  the  time  away,  and  it  has 
not  returned  yet. 


SECTION  XIII. 

We  passed  through  Martin,  only  a  short  distance 
from  my  old  home,  and  in  about  twenty-four  hours 
were  in  Chicago.  We  spent  two  days  there,  and  saw 
many  interesting  sights.  We  stood  a  long  time  by  the 
river  that  flows  into  Lake  Michigan,  and  watched  the 
great  boats  go  in  and  out  with  their  loads  of  merchan- 
dise and  passengers  as  they  went  up  the  river  to  the 
docks. 

At  every  street  which  crosses  the  river  there  is  a 
great  swing  bridge  about  one  hundred  feet  long  hung 
and  balanced  on  a  great  abutment  in  the  middle  of 
the  river,  where  there  is  machinery  and  two  men  to 
turn  the  bridge  straight  up  and  down  the  river,  when 
a  boat  wants  to  go  either  way. 

Sometimes  a  boat  was  going  both  ways  at  the  same 
time.  When  a  boat  comes  near  to  a  bridge  the  pilot 


90 

blows  the  whistle ;  the  men  in  charge  of  the  bridge  ring 
a  large  bell — just  like  a  farmer's  dinner  bell — and  no 
one  is  expected  to  come  on  the  bridge  after  it  begins  to 
ring.  They  then  start  the  machinery  and  the  bridge 
begins  to  swing.  The  boat  heads  for  the  end  of  the 
bridge  that  swings  away  from  it,  and  by  the  time  it 
gets  where  the  bridge  was,  it  is  pointing  up  and  down 
in  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  is  soon  returned  to  its 
place  with  each  end  resting  on  a  prepared  ledge,  and 
this  movable  piece  of  the  street  is  again  ready  for  use 
by  the  public. 

One  time  the  tug,  that  was  towing  in  a  great  schoon- 
er, blew  its  whistle  at  the  usual  distance  from  the 
bridge,  but  just  at  this  time  a  funeral  procession  of 
great  length  was  crossing  the  bridge,  and  it  ignored 
the  ringing  of  the  bell  and  kept  driving  on.  The 
bridgemen  got  excited  and  shouted  and  clanged  the 
bell,  but  could  not  move  the  bridge.  The  tug  puffed 
right  through  under  the  bridge,  and  a  great  cloud  of 
suffocating  smoke  came  up  and  enveloped  the  people 
on  that  end  of  the  bridge.  When  the  schooner  came 
up  a  spar  projecting  about  twenty  feet  in  front  of  the 
vessel  struck  the  side  railing  of  the  bridge  and  ran 
through  several  feet,  thereby  moving  the  ponderous 
bridge  two  or  three  feet  and  frightening  the  people 
terribly.  There  was  no  lack  of  policemen,  but  the 
enormous  structure  of  steel  which  constituted  the 
bridge  alone  was  able  to  arrest  the  great  schooner, 
which  had  three  masts  of  great  height  and  carried 
enough  lumber  to  build  a  small  village.  A  little  later 


91 

the  tug  had  a  hard  task  to  pull  the  schooner  loose  and 
tow  it  to  its  dock. 

At  another  swing  bridge  we  stopped  awhile,  and 
were  treated  to  another  free  show.  All  at  once  there 
appeared  several  policemen  driving  every  vehicle  and 
even  the  pedestrians  off  from  the  street,  and  by  the 
time  the  street  was  cleared  we  heard  a  gong  sounding. 
It  was  coming  our  way  and  rapidly  drew  near.  Soon 
a  procession  came  in  sight,  the  gong  being  on  a  fire 
engine,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  large  gaunt  horses,  and  I 
never  until  then  had  seen  heavy  horses  run  like  they 
did.  It  was  a  little  down  grade,  and  it  took  but  little 
strength,  if  any,  to  draw  the  engine.  All  the  horses 
had  to  do  was  to  run,  and  they  were  doing  it  well 
indeed.  They  passed  us  with  their  mouths  open  and 
a  fierce  expression  on  their  faces,  but  they  were  not 
confused,  there  was  no  bounding  up  and  down,  they 
stayed  close  to  the  ground,  and  stretched  out  over  all 
they  could  of  it  at  every  spring.  Another  man  sat 
beside  the  driver  and  beat  the  gong.  This  engine  was 
followed  by  others,  and  hose  wagons,  and  by  the  time 
they  were  past  us,  we  could  see  the  smoke  pouring  out 
of  the  top  of  a  large  factory  only  a  little  way  from  the 
other  bank  of  the  river.  We  saw  it  burn  down,  they 
being  only  able  to  save  the  buildings  around  it. 

We  pronounced  Chicago  not  only  a  big  town,  but  a 
busy  one. 

We  hired  to  a  railroad  company  and  were  passed 
over  the  C.,  M.  &  St.  P.  line  to  its  termination  in 
Dakota.  We  passed  through  many  beautiful  cities 
and  much  interesting  scenery,  crossing  into  Iowa  at 


92 

McGregor,  where  I  first  saw  the  great  Mississippi  river. 
Finally  we  arrived  at  our  destination,  and  I  was  intro- 
duced to  grading  camp  life,  and  some  of  the  western 
ways. 

For  several  months  following  I  worked  and  traveled 
on  the  railroads  of  Dakota  territory,  that  being  before 
the  Dakota  states  were  formed,  and  when  the  weather 
became  so  very  cold  that  one  could  not  work  on  the 
prairie,  I  started  for  the  shelter  of  the  Rocky  moun- 
tains along  with  a  trainload  of  others  who  were  thrown 
out  of  work  by  the  freezing  of  the  earth  so  that  the 
dirt  could  not  be  plowed  and  scraped.  In  the  moun- 
tains the  rockwork  could  be  done  just  as  well  as  in 
summer,  and  the  timber  camps  would  also  furnish  a 
shelter  from  the  extremely  cold  wind  of  the  prairie 
country.  We  crossed  the  Missouri  river  at  Bismarck 
on  the  Northern  Pacific  railroad,  and  one  evening  our 
train  slowed  down  on  a  loose  track,  then  stopped  alto- 
gether for  the  want  of  a  track  to  run  on.  We  were 
within  one  mile  of  Miles  City,  Montana. 


SECTION  XIV. 

I  had  noticed  ever  since  we  crossed  the  Missouri 
river  that  many  of  the  men  we  met  seemed  to  be 
hunters ;  their  belts  were  filled  with  Winchester  arms 
and  ammunition  and  knives,  and  now  that  we  left  the 
train  about  half  of  the  men  we  met  were  armed  in  this 
way,  or,  at  least  had  one  or  more  revolvers  in  their 


of 

UNIVERSITY 


belts.  At  first  it  looked  silly  to  me;  but  later  on  I 
thought  different  of  it. 

Another  young  man  and  myself  camped  tfcat  night 
by  the  fire  of  some  freighters  instead  of  going  on  to 
the  town. 

Until  the  railroads  came  into  the  west,  freight  was 
carried  by  teams,  largely  oxen,  the  teams  consisting  of 
ten  yokes  of  oxen,  and  they  drew  two  wagons.  These 
wagons  were  about  three  times  as  large  as  the  common 
eastern  wagon,  and  are  covered.  The  front  wagon  had 
a  great  tongue  that  was  used  by  the  heaviest  pair  of 
cattle  in  the  team.  The  second  one  had  but  a  short 
one  about  three  feet  long,  that  was  fastened  by  a  great 
clevis  to  the  center  of  the  hind  axle  of  the  front  wagon. 
These  freighting  outfits  came  east  until  they  met  the 
steam  trains  that  brought  goods  for  the  mines  and 
other  industries.  They  loaded  four  tons  on  the 
front  wagon  and  three  on  the  hind  one.  Seven  tons, 
for  ten  yokes  of  oxen,  was  considered  a  load.  Several 
teams,  varying  in  number,  were  called  a  freighting 
train,  or  outfit.  There  were  only  three  teams  in  this 
outfit,  and  but  four  men,  this  being  a  9  small  train. 
The  drivers  were  called  whackers,  one  for  each  team, 
and  a  night  herder.  At  night  the  oxen  are  turned  out 
to  graze  and  a  man,  well  mounted,  rides,  continually 
around  them  all  night,  to  keep  them  together,  and 
bring  them  in  at  daylight.  He  then  eats  his  breakfast, 
helps  about  getting  the  start  made,  then  climbs  into  a 
wagon  and  is  rocked  to  sleep  on  plenty  of  blankets 
which  are  piled  in  between  the  load  and  the  canvas 
cover.  Under  him  there  might  be  barrels  of  flour  for 


94 

the  stores,  kegs  of  oysters  for  the  restaurants,  bales  of 
blankets  for  the  soldiers,  cases  of  cartridges  for  the 
hunters,  dynamite  for  the  miners,  but  certainly  there 
were  barrels  of  booze  and  various  packages  of  tobacco ; 
for  without  these  two  last  named  articles,  the  popula- 
tion that  Montana  then  had  would  have  migrated  with- 
in one  month. 

These  whackers  were  sociable ;  they  showed  us  how 
they  used  their  whips,  which  consisted  of  a  lash  about 
fifteen  feet  long  and  nearly  an  inch  in  diameter  along 
near  the  middle ;  this  is  fastened  to  a  stalk  about  thirty 
inches  long,  and  the  blow  they  can  deliver  with  one  of 
them  is  terrible.  They  can  sound  a  warning  to  the  line 
of  toiling  oxen  that  sounds  but  little  different  from 
the  report  of  a  rifle,  usually  causing  any  laggard  to  lift 
honestly  in  the  yoke.  The  goad  stick  of  the  lumber 
woods  is  only  a  toy,  compared  to  this  whip  as  an  in- 
strument of  punishment. 

Morning  came,  and  we  left  our  friends  to  load  their 
enormous  wagons  with  supplies  to  be  hauled  up  the 
Yellowstone  Valley.  We  were  told  that  men  were 
wanted  to  work  in  camps  at  different  points  not  far 
separated  from  each  other,  and  scattered  for  a  distance 
of  one  hundred  miles  up  the  Yellowstone  Valley. 

The  few  buildings  that  constituted  Miles  City,  wore 
a  dilapidated  appearance  in  general.  There  were  two 
or  three  hotels,  probably  a  dozen  stores  where  they 
sold  groceries,  clothing,  guns  and  ammunition  of  all 
descriptions.  The  stores  were  constructed,  some  of 
logs,  some  of  boards  and  some  of  an  indescribable  mix- 
ture of  both,  and  finished  up  with  additions  of  canvas. 


95 

The  town  seemed  to  be  under  guard;  there  stood,  or 
sauntered,  one  or  more  men  of  the  long-hair  fame,  of 
whom  many,  but  probably  not  near  all,  wore  the  leather 
suit  that  he,  himself,  had  made  from  buckskin  that 
no  other  person  had  ever  touched  until  he  shoved  his 
knees  under  the  card  table  among  those  of  some  other 
slim  hermit  who  comes  out  of  the  hills  a  few  times 
each  year  to  purchase  provisions  and  dispose  of  his 
pelts.  Some  of  these  men  stared  at  the  crowd  of  ten- 
derfeet  as  awkwardly  as  we  did  at  them.  There  were 
two  reasons  for  there  being  an  unusually  large  number 
of  these  men  here  at  this  time ;  some,  no  doubt,  wanted 
to  see  the  steam  line  and  were  prolonging  their  stay 
a  little  longer  than  usual;  others  were  taking  advan- 
tage of  the  new,  quick  transportation,  making  it  pos- 
sible to  sell  buffalo  meat  farther  east  than  common. 
This  last  mentioned  item  was  quite  an  important  one, 
for  there  was  a  herd  of  buffaloes  in  the  hills  to  the 
south  of  Miles  City,  that  winter,  that  was  numbered 
by  the  thousands. 

These  miners  and  the  other  old-timers  are  much 
given  to  gambling,  and  the  great  amount  of  money 
being  earned  by  the  railroad  laborers,  and  drawn  once 
a  month,  made  it  a  time  of  harvest  for  them.  There 
were  about  as  many  .  saloons  as  all  other  places  of 
business  combined;  they  were  all  places  of  gambling, 
and  the  amount  of  money  to  be  seen  piled  up  on  some 
of  these  tables,  was  astonishing.  They  sat,  usually, 
two  or  four  at  a  table,  and  there  were  that  many  piles 
of  money  and  usually  that  many  revolvers  lying  by 
them. 


96 

The  number  of  intoxicated  camp  men  lopping  and 
staggering  about  this  town  was  enough  to  shock  me, 
and  I  thus  learned  a  lesson  at  their  expense.  I  decided 
not  to  drink  any  in  this  place,  and  succeeded  in  my 
resolution. 

I  had  not  been  in  the  place  more  than  a  few  hours 
when  I  met  one  of  my  friends,  John  Head.  He  had 
something  to  report,  and  said  that  there  was  an  old- 
timer  camped  just  over  the  knoll,  who  claimed  to  have 
an  errand  up  country,  and  would  take  a  load  up  to  the 
Rosebud  River,  cheap,  if  any  one  wanted  to  go. 
We  saw  the  man,  and  he  agreed  to  make  the  trip  for 
forty  dollars.  We  soon  had  ten  men  together,  that 
gave  four  dollars  apiece,  and  we  made  a  start  that  day. 
We  thought  that  by  going  about  fifty  miles  farther 
away  from  the  track,  work  would  be  a  little  more  sat- 
isfactory, as  there  were  a  great  many  men  coming 
every  day  from  the  east,  and  many  would  not  want 
to  go  any  farther  than  the  first  camps  that  offered  work 
to  them,  and  this  would  keep  the  nearest  camps 
crowded. 

We  started  out  from  Miles  City  about  four  o'clock 
and  passed  the  fort  that  guarded  the  city  just  as  a  few 
soldiers  led  a  number  of  horses  to  water;  the  horses 
all  kept  their  places  and  galloped  along,  showing  that 
even  a  horse  is  able  to  appear  well  when  educated. 

We  went  into  camp  early  as  is  the  custom  with 
western  travelers  when  there  is  wood  and  water  at 
hand.  Every  man  carried  his  own  blanket,  and  after 
spending  the  evening  by  the  camp  fire,  we  rolled  up 
in  our  blankets  and  went  to  sleep.  The  driver  was 


97 

astir  early  the  next  morning  and  prepared  his  breakfast 
so  systematically  as  to  attract  attention ;  he  had  prob- 
ably been  cooking  his  meals  for  many  years,  and  could 
make  cakes,  fry  bacon  and  buffalo  meat,  and  keep 
the  coffee  pot  from  tipping  over  and  drenching  the 
fire,  with  an  air  of  unconcern  that  was  admirable.  It 
was  still  early  when  we  pulled  into  the  up  river,  or 
Fort  Custer  trail.  The  team,  a  pair  of  medium-sized 
bay  horses,  could  not  be  expected  to  do  any  trotting, 
and  frequently  they  had  to  stop  and  rest  on  steep 
places.  At  these  places  we  always  walked;  getting 
our  baggage  carried  was  what  we  hired  a  team  for 
really.  We  were  much  of  the  time  in  sight  of  the 
grading  work  of  the  railroad,  which  was  off  to  the  right 
and  close  to  the  river  all  the  way,  while  we  were  some- 
times in  the  valley  and  much  of  the  time  on  the  bluffs 
of  the  Yellowstone  Valley.  We  had  not  gone  far 
when  we  came  to  some  coal  mines,  and  some  of  us 
wanted  to  see  into  them,  and  as  it  was  run  right  back 
into  the  bluff  on  a  level  with  the  trail  we  had  a  chance 
to  walk  along  the  little  iron  railway  on  which  the  small 
cars  of  coal  were  pushed  along.  Some  seemed  to  think 
it  a  treat,  but  I  became  fearful  of  the  roof  falling  in  on 
us,  as  there  seemed  but  little  to  hold  it  up,  and  I  felt 
better  when  I  saw  the  sunshine  again,  as  my  limbs 
felt  curious  while  in  the  dark  damp  tunnel,  but  they 
served  me  well  in  getting  out  and  overtaking  the 
"outfit,"  as  the  driver  persisted  in  calling  it. 

There  was  no  lack  of  interesting  things  to  attract  our 
attention.  Every  little  way  there  was  the  remains  of 
some  faithful  old  ox  or  mule  which  had  found  the  end 


98 

of  service  as  a  freighter's  animal,  they  being  removed 
usually  a  rod  or  two  from  the  trail,  sometimes  farther, 
the  distance  depending  on  whether  the  animal  could 
travel,  after  being  released  from  the  service  that  caused 
his  death.  Anywhere  along  this  trail  one  could  step 
out  to  the  side  and  pick  up  a  long-necked  bottle; 
usually  they  lay  in  sight  on  either  side  of  it,  and  for 
years  they  had  been  accumulating,  being  thrown  aside 
by  the  freighter,  miner,  hunter  or  soldier  as  he  rode 
from  Miles  City,  which  was  a  main  distributing  point 
for  liquors. 

We  had  a  chance  to  view  a  specimen  of  the  wild 
red  man,  as  we  met  one  during  the  day  that  was  no 
cheap  guy.  He  was  large  and  ugly  looking,  even 
with  his  affable  grin,  which  he  displayed  to  our  troop 
as  we  passed  him.  There  was  plenty  of  possibility 
that  the  very  weapons  he  carried  were  pulled  off  from 
one  of  the  butchered  men  of  General  Custer,  or  some 
other  unfortunate  person,  though  at  this  time  there 
was  no  trouble  with  the  Indians ;  no  doubt  owing  to 
the  fact  that  soldiers  were  in  evidence  everywhere  we 
went.  To  me,  this  was  a  dismal  country.  In  addi- 
tion to  the  skeletons  of  the  domestic  animals  along  the 
trail,  we  saw,  in  places  where  the  trail  drew  close  to 
the  river,  pieces  of  ground  thickly  strewn  with  the 
bones  and  sometimes  with  the  decaying  carcases  of 
many  buffaloes,  and  the  coyotes  or  red  wolves  would 
make  .slow  but  careful  retreat  as  we  neared  them, 
sometimes  drawing  the  rifle  fire  of  our  company. 

Night  came  and  we  passed  it  the  same  as  the  one 
before,  and  sunrise,  the  next  morning,  found  us  in  mo- 


99 

tion  again.  During  the  day  we  passed  some  posters 
tacked  on  an  occasional  tree,  saying  "One  thousand 
men  wanted  to  cut  wood  at  Rosebud,"  with  the  man's 
name  attached.  This  interested  us,  and  we  decided, 
as  we  traveled  along,  that  we  would  investigate  it.  In 
the  evening,  after  sundown  we  drew  out  of  the  trail 
close  by  Rosebud,  and  camped  for  the  night.  Some  of 
us  visited  the  place.  It  was  at  that  time  but  a  tent 
village  consisting  of  a  railway  supply  store  and  one 
dozen  of  the  lowest  class  of  saloons ;  the  chief  business 
of  this  place  seemed  to  be  gambling. 

The  next  morning  we  bid  good-bye  to  Tom  Logan, 
our  teamster,  and  set  out  for  the  wood-cutting  camp, 
which  was  a  day's  walk  farther  up  the  Yellowstone, 
and  since  we  had  to  now  carry  our  blankets  and 
clothes,  we  had  a  hard  day  of  it,  but  reached  the  timber 
camp  by  sundown. 

We  hired  out  to  cut  cord  wood,  and  timber  for  ties 
and  piles.  Most  of  us  had  our  blankets,  yet  some  had 
not,  and  they  kept  fire  that  night,  and  slept  what  they 
could  by  the  warmth  of  it.  The  new  employer  was  a 
man  not  quite  forty  yet,  and  weighing  two  hundred 
pounds,  a  well  built  man  who  had  never  hurt  himself 
with  work.  He  had  red  hair  and  his  well-rounded 
cheeks  were  partly  covered  with  coarse  scattering  red 
stubs  of  a  week's  growth ;  around  his  waist  was  a  belt 
well  filled  with  cartridges,  and  usually  a  Colt  revolver. 
His  camp  was  down  in  the  scenic  Yellowstone  Valley, 
on  the  west  bank,  and  at  a  place  where  the  railroad  line 
ran  along  in  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  and  was  all  dirt 
grade,  having  been  made  ready  for  the  ties  during  the 


100 

summer  and  fall.  The  cook's  tent  stood  about  ten  rods 
from  the  grade,  and  between  them  was  the  line  of  the 
Fort  Custer  trail.  Away  from  the  river  in  both  direc- 
tions, lay  ranges  of  peaks  and  great  canyons,  some  of 
these  untraversable,  but  all  more  or  less  covered  with 
yellow  pine.  The  railroad  company  wanted  these  trees 
for  bridge  piles,  and  in  the  Yellowstone  Valley  there 
were  strips  and  clusters  of  cottonwood  trees  to  be 
worked  up  into  ties  and  cordwood. 

On  our  first  morning  in  camp,  we  all  received  an 
ax,  I  being  among  the  number  that  was  to  cut  wood  at 
two  dollars  a  cord  and  pay  for  our  board  by  the  week. 
Our  work  to  start  in  with  was  on  a  point  of  land  cov- 
ered with  cottonwood  close  to  the  camp. 

I  now  had  a  job  that  I  understood  and  I  was  not 
afraid  to  have  any  one  see  me  swing  my  ax  into  a  tree. 
I  could  fall  my  tree  as  quickly  as  any  one  about  me. 

During  the  second  or  third  day  of  my  wood  cutting, 
there  were  three  Indians  came  up  the  trail  and  turned 
into  the  timber  road  that  came  close  to  where  I  was 
chopping.  There  happened  to  be  a  young  man  work- 
ing closer  to  them  than  I  was,  and  when  they  got 
about  opposite  of  him  they  beckoned  him  to  come,  and 
when  he  had  approached  to  about  twenty  feet  of  them 
one  of  them  said,  in  a  gruff  tone  of  voice,  "toback." 
He  was  begging  a  chew  of  tobacco,  but  the  young 
woodchopper  thought  he  said  go  back,  and  the  way 
he  went  back  was  a  laughable  scramble;  small  brush 
could  not  stop  him.  I  hardly  think  any  of  the  Indians 
laughed,  but  all  of  the  pale  faces  did.  They  were 
Crow  Indians,  a  very  peaceable  tribe,  but  we  were  all 


101 

tenderfeet,  and  the  most  we  knew  about  Indians  was 
that  just  across  a  few  of  those  peaks  from  us  lay  the 
famous  battle-ground  where  General  Custer  and  his 
whole  command  had  so  recently  been  slain,  and  a  thing 
quite  fresh  in  our  minds  at  that  time.  The  red  men 
soon  had  their  supply  of  tobacco  and  went  on  their 
way. 

The  cottonwood  trees  that  we  were  felling  had  a 
smooth  brittle  bark  on  their  smaller  limbs,  quite  simi- 
far  to  that  of  the  eastern  poplar,  and  they  sometimes 
reached  out  over  the  river.  One  morning,  I  was  sur- 
prised to  find  the  bark  all  pealed  off  from  many  limbs, 
leaving  them  almost  as  white  as  the  cotton,  after  which 
the  trees  are  probably  named.  It  was  done  by  beavers, 
and  they  had  fallen  many  trees  themselves  along  the 
river  bank,  leaving  stumps  as  large  as  fourteen  inches 
in  diameter  and  so  smooth  that  they  rivaled  the  work- 
manship of  some  of  the  prairie  state  wood  choppers 
that  worked  in  the  camp. 


SECTION  XV. 

One  evening,  as  we  stood  and  sat  in  a  circle  around 
the  fire,  warming  ourselves  and  waiting  for  the  cook 
to  call  us  into  the  tent  to  supper,  there  came  a  clatter 
of  hoofs  down  the  trail.  It  was  Crop.  She  was  one 
of  two  saddle  ponies  kept  about  the  place.  They  and 
four  cows  were  allowed  to  run  about  loose  most  of 
the  time.  Just  now  Crop  was  doing  service ;  she  was 


102 

reined  up  a  few  paces  from  us,  and  the  boss  dismount- 
ed, throwing  down  the  reins  in  front  of  her;  any  good 
saddle-horse  broken  in  the  west  will  stand  if  left  this 
way.  Crop  was  an  ordinary  Indian  pony  of  the  bron- 
cho breed,  spotted  bay  and  white,  and  she  being  a 
little  more  fleet  than  her  mate,  was  kept  more  in  serv- 
ice, and  consequently  was  pretty  thin  in  flesh.  The 
Indians  once  cut  her  ears  off,  and  this  is  why  she  bore 
the  name  she  did.  As  the  boss  alighted  from  her  back 
he  was  evidently  tired  from  his  ride,  and  he  said  gruffly, 
"I  wish  one  of  you  fellows  would  take  the  pony  and 
run  in  those  cows/'  The  cows  were  grazing  about 
two  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away  toward  the  bluffs, 
and  a  jovial  young  fellow  by  the  name  of  Jack  Murry, 
who  never  hurt  himself  much  with  hard  work,  thought 
here  now  is  a  chance  to  have  a  ride  and  some  fun  get- 
ting those  cows  in,  and  he  not  only  rode  part  way,  but 
he  flew.  Once  in  camp,  and  just  supper  time,  Miss 
Crop  was  anything  but  pleased  with  being  headed 
toward  the  trail  again,  without  having  had  time  to  get 
done  puffing,  but  Murry  was  something  of  a  driver, 
and  when  he  began  to  punish  her,  she  moved  along,  a 
little  way ;  then,  as  if  the  thought  struck  her,  that  the 
quicker  a  job  is  done  the  better,  she  began  to  get  over 
the  ground  as  fast  as  any  one  cares  to  go  for  com- 
fort. Murry  would  weigh  perhaps  one  hundred  and 
forty  pounds,  but  she  went  as  though  he  was  not  in 
the  saddle ;  she  crossed  the  trail  with  increasing  speed. 
By  the  time  they  reached  the  railroad  grade,  which, 
at  this  place,  was  about  two  feet  high,  and  soft  dirt, 
it  being  too  dry  to  freeze,  Crop  had  attained  her  great- 


103 

est  possible  speed,  and  there  she  stopped.  In  the  soft 
earth  she  planted  her  feet,  stiff-legged,  driven  down  by 
the  force  of  herself  and  rider,  she  was  well  planted  in 
the  loose  earth,  and,  as  motionless  as  an  old  buffalo 
carcass  lying  not  far  away;  not  so  with  Murry;  his 
part  was  not  all  played  yet ;  the  saddle  had  been  doing 
just  this  kind  of  service  for  a  number  of  years,  and 
the  belly  girt  broke,  and  Murry  and  the  saddle  contin- 
ued their  rapid  chase  after  the  cows,  right  along  the 
shoulders  and  neck  of  Crop  went  the  saddle,  out  in 
front  they  sailed,  and  gradually  curved  down  to  the 
earth,  Murry  in  the  saddle,  and  feet  in  the  stirrups  still 
clinging  to  the  saddle  horn  with  one  hand  just  the 
same  as  when  the  fiery  little  traitor  was  under  him, 
and  to  add  the  last  possible  touch  of  comic  appear- 
ance to  the  scene ;  when  Murry  was  up,  at  the  greatest 
height  and  started  down,  he  sailed  out  from  under  his 
hat,  leaving  it  to  come  leisurely  down  between  him  and 
the  pony.  Most  of  the  men  saw  the  performance,  and 
such  a  chorus  of  laughter  and  hurrahs,  I  am  sure,  the 
coyotes  and  wildcats  in  the  rocky  bluffs  and  jungles 
about  us,  had  never  heard  before.  Murry  was  a  good 
actor,  and  he  never  stopped,  but  jumped  to  his  feet, 
and  not  looking  for  his  hat  or  anything  else,  took  a 
lively  pace  straight  for  the  cows,  rounding  them  up  on 
foot,  enjoying  the  occasion  somewhat,  along  with  the 
rest  of  the  crowd. 

One  day,  soon  after  this,  the  boss  came  to  me  and 
questioned  me  as  to  where  I  came  from  and  how  much 
I  knew  about  timber  work,  saying  that  he  saw  I  was 
some  kind  of  a  woodsman.  I  told  him  I  could  do  any- 


104 

thing  about  a  logging  camp,  but  scale  timber.  He 
said  that  he  wanted  a  man  to  go  ahead  with  the  hand- 
ling of  logs,  as  there  were  to  be  several  log  buildings 
put  up,  one  quite  large,  the  others  smaller,  and  said 
that,  over  a  large  tract  of  the  mountains  to  the  west, 
he  had  contracted  to  get  out  the  yellow  pine  timber  for 
piling,  and  that  he  had  gone  up  the  Rosebud  valley 
the  summer  before  with  machines  and  men  and  had 
cut  wild  grass  in  the  best  prairie  spots,  and  now  had 
lots  of  hay  up  there  to  be  drawn  down.  He  was  going 
to  build  close  to  the  trails  so  as  to  keep  a  stopping 
place  for  travelers  during  the  winter,  and  would  need 
the  hay  at  this  place.  He  thought  I  was  the  man  he 
needed,  and  would  give  me  thirty-five  dollars  a  month 
and  my  board,  from  the  time  that  I  had  come  to  his 
camp,  and  not  bother  to  pile  and  measure  all  the  wood 
that  I  had  cut  or  figure  my  board  either.  This  seemed 
to  me  like  good  fortune,  and  I  accepted  the  position; 
however,  I  was  not  very  optimistic  about  pleasing 
him.  I  thought  I  knew  him  as  a  hard  master  at  first 
sight,  and  what  little  chance  I  had  of  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  him  up  to  this  time  had  confirmed  my 
first  impression,  but  I  was  not  now  the  timid  lad  that 
I  was  when  I  first  went  to  the  camp  of  Sabin  and 
Snow,  and  I  took  my  place  with  a  determination  to 
override  every  obstacle.  A  span  of  mules  was  already 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Yellowstone  waiting  for  a 
driver,  the  one  having  been  discharged  that  had  driven 
it  there.  I,  with  about  twenty-five  other  men,  crossed 
the  river  and  soon  had  the  logs  together  for  a  build- 
ing thirty  by  fifty  feet.  A  few  days  later  the  boss 


105 

showed  me  a  pair  of  small  bay  mares,  and  said  he 
wanted  me  to  drive  them  always  myself,  and  take  good 
care  of  them  as  they  were  very  valuable.  One  of  them 
had  a  little  cold  at  that  time.  He  said  that  they  had 
been  stolen  and  run  to  Fort  Custer,  and  were  put 
through  the  ford  while  very  warm.  One  caught  cold 
and  he  had  bought  them  at  a  bargain  on  this  account. 
They  were  a  fine  pair,  always  against  the  bit,  and 
eager  to  go.  They  would  weigh  very  little  more  than 
ten  hundred  apiece,  but  would  move  a  good-sized  load, 
and  their  speed  was  astonishing,  but  was  seldom 
brought  into  use.  We  called  them  Belle  and  Doll. 

In  a  few  days  the  logs  for  two  other  buildings  were 
together,  and  we  soon  had  roofs  on,  and  leaving  the 
finishing  up  for  others  to  do,  I  began  to  draw  hay 
down  the  Rosebud  Valley,  and  up  the  Yellowstone  to 
i.ur  camp.  This  was  a  distance  of  about  eighteen 
miles,  with  about  one-fourth  of  it  in  the  Rosebud  Val- 
ley having  no  trail.  It  required  two  days  to  make  a 
round  trip,  two  teams  being  used,  and*  many  were 
the  trying  experiences  we  encountered. 

Upon  leaving  the  Yellowstone  we  followed  up  the 
Rosebud  on  the  right  hand  side  for  about  an  hour's 
drive ;  then  we  forded  the  stream  and  took  to  the  wild 
country  over  which  the  wheeling  was  exceedingly 
rough.  We  had  to  lash  everything  fast  to  the  hay- 
racks. We  had  a  sack  of  grain  for  the  animals,  a  sack 
containing  bread,  meat,  coffee  and  a  few  cooking  uten- 
sils; also  blankets,  an  ax,  long  binding  poles,  and 
plenty  of  ropes,  and  the  way  we  jolted  along  over  the 


106 

frozen  ground  was  sufficient  to  throw  off  anything 
loose. 

The  aim  was  to  try  and  get  to  the  hay  and  load  up, 
and  if  possible  make  a  start  toward  home  the  first  day. 
The  second  day  was  the  hard  part,  for  once  we  had 
put  on  a  load  of  hay  the  driving  must  be  of  a  different 
kind.  We  often  had  to  drive  around  sidling  places, 
and  even  then  sometimes,  both  of  us  stood,  or  hung 
on  one  side  of  the  load  to  act  as  ballast.  The  one  place 
that  we  dreaded  above  all  others  was  the  ford  in  the 
Rosebud.  The  banks  at  the  sides  of  the  river  bed  were 
about  ten  feet  high,  and  so  steep  that  they  gave  us 
much  trouble  in  getting  up  with  our  loads.  In  from 
shore  on  either  side,  a  short  distance,  was  a  coat  of 
ice,  and  when  the  wheels  dropped  off  from  this  into 
the  water,  which  was  about  two  feet  deep, — if  the 
wheels  did  not  go  down  together — it  would  tip  the  load 
badly,  and  when  we  reached  the  ice  on  the  opposite 
side  it  struck  the  wheels  so  high  up  as  to  block  them 
and  stall  the  teams.  When  we  capsized  a  load  on  dry 
ground  we  could  warm  up  by  loading  it  on  again. 
An  instance  of  this  kind  usually  provoked  me,  but  once 
there  was  an  exception.  It  came  about  in  this  way: 
Our  loads,  not  large  when  first  put  on  the  wagon,  were 
jolted  down  by  the  time  we  reached  headquarters  until 
they  looked  decidedly  small.  One  morning  the  boss 
said,  "I'll  go  with  you  this  time,  Charlie,  and  show  you 
how  to  draw  hay ;  it  does  not  pay  to  make  such  long 
trips  for  such  small  loads."  I  felt  the  thrust  at  my 
management,  and  did  not  like  to  be  shown.  He  did 
not  want  to  make  me  angry  and  explained  that  I  did 


107 

not  quite  understand  handling  the  loads  over  the  rough- 
est part  of  the  way.  Says  he,  "You  go  slow  and  give 
the  wagon  time  to  tip  clear  over.  But  I'll  show  you 
western  driving.  You  want  to  crack  them  right 
through/'  I  had  hauled  hay  on  the  new  farms  in 
Ionia  county,  Michigan,  and  when  he  told  me  where 
my  mismanagement  was  I  felt  better  about  his  show- 
ing me.  We  made  good  time  and  reached  the  great 
stacks  of  hay  with  plenty  of  time  to  load  up.  I  put 
on  what  I  thought  best,  then  he  loaded  his  wagon 
while  I  pitched  to  him;  he  loaded  out  over  the  edge 
of  the  rack  farther  than  I  did,  and  carried  the  sides 
up  straight  and  high.  When  he  said,  "Hand  me  the 
binding  pole/'  I  passed  it  up  over  about  one-third 
more  hay  than  I  had  ever  brought  into  camp  with  one 
team. 

We  headed  for  home,  but  directly  he  said,  "We  will 
camp  here/'  There  was  a  hunter's  cabin  a  little  way 
off,  and  he  said,  "We  will  stop  there  tonight,"  but 
when  we  reached  it  we  found  no  one  at  home.  We 
waited  until  quite  late,  and  no  one  came.  There  were 
some  green  pelts  curing  about  the  place  and  plenty  of 
fresh  buffalo  meat.  A  good  padlock  was  on  the  door. 
I  had  slowly  learned  the  nature  of  my  employer  in 
part,  but  was  surprised  to  see  him  deliberately  break 
into  the  place.  I  knew  what  would  be  likely  to  occur 
if  the  man  of  long  hair  came  and  found  us  there,  but 
luckily  he  did  not  reach  home  that  night. 

We  were  out  and  moving  by  daylight  the  next 
morning.  During  the  night  the  loads  of  hay  had  set- 
tled together,  and  were  in  much  better  shape  to  ride 


108 

over  the  rough  strips  of  rocky  waste  and  boggy  prairie. 
I  fell  in  behind  the  large  load  and  for  a  mile  or  there- 
about, the  boss  did  show  me  how.  He  made  me  hurry 
all  the  time  to  keep  respectably  near  him.  There  was 
a  sloping  strip  of  table  land  lying  off  from  the  main 
bluff  well  out  toward  the  river,  and  from  a  rocky  pass 
we  came  out  on  to  this  smooth-looking  piece  of  prairie. 
We  had  already  made  something  of  a  trail  by  our 
repeated  trips,  driving  out  straight  with  the  canyon 
for  a  distance  of  about  fifteen  rods,  then  heading 
straight  for  the  bank  near  the  ford  which  lay  in  sight 
at  a  distance  of  perhaps  one-half  a  mile.  I  felt  re- 
vengefully glad  over  one  thing,  I  knew  that  if  he  suc- 
ceeded in  fording  the  river  with  that  load  we  would 
have  to  pitch  part  of  it  off  before  it  could  be  landed 
on  the  opposite  shore.  As  I  came  out  into  clear  view, 
the  lead  team  was  taking  a  trot  that  beat  my  calcula- 
tions. It  was  somewhat  rough,  for  the  tuft  grass  of 
the  Montana  ranges  grows  in  bunches,  making  little 
knobs,  and  everything  was  frozen  hard  as  could  be. 
1  was  making  all  the  speed  I  thought  reasonable,  and 
was  on  the  point  of  striking  a  trot  when  the  head  team 
approached  the  turn  in  the  trail  without  slacking  pace. 
He  intended  to  trot  all  the  way  to  the  ford.  His  load 
of  hay  was  bounding  and  the  corners  of  it  flopping  like 
the  long  wool  on  the  back  of  a  coarse-wool  sheep  as  he 
gallops  away  from  a  dog,  and  as  the  long  ears  of  the 
mules  appeared  to  my  view  as  they  made  the  turn, 
the  load  rocked  up  on  the  two  outside  wheels  of  the 
wagon,  then  over  on  the  ground  went  load,  hay-rack, 
driver  and  all.  I  was  not  expecting  him  to  do  as  badly 


109 

as  that,  and  was  filled  with  contempt,  but  saw  also,  my 
own  sky  clearing  rapidly.  I  will  make  no  attempt  to 
tell  how  that  man  looked,  nor  what  he  said  to  the 
mules ;  to  me  he  said  almost  nothing  at  all.  To  get  the 
rack  out  from  under  the  hay  and  on  the  wagon  again 
was  no  small  job,  and  when  we  had  about  one-half  of 
the  hay  on  again,  he  said,  "That  will  do,  being  as  I 
can't  handle  all  of  it;  might  as  well  divide  it."  When 
we  pulled  up  at  camp  at  dark  he  unhitched  from  the 
smallest  load  that  I  saw  during  the  winter.  This  did 
not  sweeten  his  disposition  much,  but. in  a  business- 
like way  he  said,  when  I  was  about  to  start  on  the  next 
trip,  "Just  do  the  best  you  can,  Charlie,  with  that  hay 
job."  ' 


SECTION  XVI. 

On  one  homeward  trip  we  had  extremely  bad  luck. 
It  was  already  afternoon  when  we  reached  the  ford, 
and  by  the  time  we  had  fed  our  teams  and  ourselves 
and  were  hooking  the  tugs  again,  it  was  about  the  time 
we  ought  to  have  been  well  down  toward  Rosebud  vil- 
lage. We  were  heavily  loaded  and  had  reached  the 
limit  of  the  ability  of  both  span,  and  were  obliged  to 
double  up  repeatedly.  After  shaping  the  ice  at  the 
drop  into  the  water  so  both  wheels  would  drop  in  to- 
gether, I  urged  the  horses  in.  They  always  dreaded 
the  water  as  it  was  so  very  cold,  for  it  was  midwinter. 
When  the  bays  found  footing  on  the  ice  at  the  home 
side  of  the  river,  they  struggled  a  little,  but  the  wheels 


110 

were  blocked  by  the  ice  as  usual.  We  broke  it  and 
chopped  as  much  of  a  slant  as  possible,  and  put  on  the 
mules,  which  was  an  unusually  large  pair.  Their 
driver  had  ridden  them  across  to  tow  me  up  the  bank, 
as  usual.  To  our  dismay  they  all  four,  at  first,  were 
not  able  to  make  the  grade  with  the  load.  Finally  by 
placing  one  span  clear  up  the  bank  and  using  a  chain 
long  enough  to  reach  the  tongue  of  the  wagon,  we 
succeeded  in  landing  the  load  on  the  bank,  and  after 
a  little  less  waste  of  time  the  second  load  was  brought 
over  and  we  were  ready  for  a  start.  It  was  now  late 
and  night  was  surely  going  to  overtake  us  at  a  disad- 
vantage. We  were  out  in  a  wide  flat  when  darkness 
began  to  settle  down  upon  us,  and  it  was  only  a  little 
later  when  I  had  lost  sight  of  the  trail.  The  team  in 
spite  of  their  heavy  work  day  after  day,  were  always 
champing  the  bit,  and  I  could  not  trust  them  to  follow 
the  trail,  for  they  would  go  too  fast  if  I  slacked  the 
rein,  and  I  could  not  think  of  stopping  where  we  were 
for  the  night.  The  wind  was  having  an  unbroken 
sweep  for  a  long  distance  and  was  making  our  cheeks 
tingle.  I  was  anxious  to  reach  some  place  where  we 
could  get  water  before  camping  or  at  least  a  sheltered 
place  for  the  animals  and  ourselves.  About  a  mile 
farther  down,  was  a  small  run  where  there  was  water, 
and  just  beyond  there  was  a  squatter's  claim  and  a 
family  living  in  a  small  log  house.  I  had  seen  a 
hunter  go  to  the  house  once  with  a  pelt  hanging  from 
his  side,  and  that  indicated  that  it  was  his  home,  and  I 
had  also  seen  a  little  girl  with  a  pink  dress  on  around 
there.  I  finally  lost  the  trail  and  that  was  not  much 


Ill 

to  lose  at  this  place,  for  it  was  very  rough.  Over  to 
the  right,  less  than  half  a  mile,  was  a  good  chance  to 
approach  the  river  bed,  as  the  plain  sloped  right  down 
to  the  water,  and  away  to  the  left  was  a  wide-mouthed 
canyon  that  led  up  to  the  top  of  the  bluffs,  and  from  it 
the  buffaloes  had  come  down  and  across  the  flat  where 
we  were  driving,  making  deep  trails.  When  buffaloes 
go  to  and  from  water  they  do  not  spread,  but  go  single 
file  as  cows  go  in  the  woods,  and  the  wind  blowing 
as  it  does  up  in  this  high  country,  clears  the  dirt  they 
loosen,  and  the  trail  gets  deep,  sometimes  so  deep  that 
they  prefer  to  start  new  paths  rather  than  bump  their 
knees  against  the  sides  of  the  narrow  trail. 

I  was  over  anxious  to  reach  shelter  and  was  driving 
in  the  dark  when  suddenly  the  horses  checked  their 
speed  a  little,  then  together  they  made  a  rabbit-like 
spring.  I  knew  what  was  the  matter  when  they 
surged  ahead  so  violently  but  it  was  to  late,  the  front 
wheels  sank  down  in  a  deep  wide  buffalo  trail  and  the 
load  stopped  with  a  jar  that  nearly  pitched  me  off  onto 
the  horses.  As  the  load  went  down,  the  horses  gave 
a  savage  pull  upward  and  broke  the  reach  in  two,  right 
where  it  passes  between  the  two  cross-bars.  The  team 
pulled  desperately  and  moved  ahead  a  little  but  the 
load  did  not  move.  I  stopped  them  at  once  and  climbed 
down.  A  glance  revealed  the  nature  of  the  trouble 
and  the  fact  that  we  must  camp  at  once,  neither  of  the 
conditions  being  very  agreeable  to  us.  Fortunately 
it  was  late  when  we  watered  the  stock  at  the  ford. 
We  had  no  way  of  making  another  hole  in  the  reach 
and  I  decided  to  go  on  to  the  settlers  cabin  and  bor- 


112 

row  an  auger  of  some  kind.  We  knew  about  where 
there  was  some  dry  cedars,  and  bidding  the  other 
teamster  to  take  Doll  and  bring  some  wood,  I  pulled 
the  harness  off  from  Belle  and  mounted  her  bare  back. 
The  mules  were  headed  to  a  load  of  hay  and  tied. 

I  soon  wished  that  I  was  on  the  ground.  Once  we 
reached  the  trail,  which  was  only  a  little  way  to  the 
right,  I  gave  her  free  rein,  and  I  soon  got  better  ac- 
quainted with  her.  She  started  fast  enough  to  suit 
me,  and  I  was  a  fairly  good  rider,  but  she  soon  had  me 
crying  whoa !  For  some  distance  she  gained  speed  at 
every  rod  and  I  was  soon  going  much  faster  than  I  had 
ever  rode  before.  I  talked  to  her  and  pulled  with 
every  bit  of  strength  that  I  could  bring  in  use  and  she 
actually  increased  her  speed.  I  now  began  to  realize 
what  I  had  been  driving.  She  was  stock  of  the  choic- 
est breeding,  and  peculiarly  trained.  I  pulled  at  times 
until  it  slid  me  forward  onto  her  neck  without  her  pay- 
ing any  attention  to  me.  Rough  ground,  buffalo 
trails,  rocks  and  sheets  of  ice  at  the  run  made  no  dif- 
ference to  her.  All  the  ground  was  frozen  hard  and 
there  was  little  chance  to  save  my  life  if  she  was  to 
fall;  for  a  long  time  we  were  on  such  rough  ground 
that  if  she  could  not  have  seen  before  her  she  would 
surely  have  stumbled.  There  was  a  curve  in  the  trail 
at  the  run  or  creek  and  from  there  the  road  was  much 
plainer  and  smoother.  Had  I  not  remembered  the 
curve,  she  would  have  unseated  me  there,  but  I  leaned 
in  and  kept  my  place.  Straight  ahead  I  could  now 
see  the  light  in  the  settler's  window,  and  knew  about 
how  far  it  was  to  another  turn  in  the  trail  which  swung 


113 

off  to  the  left  just  a  little  before  reaching  the  house.  I 
decided  that  I  must  stop  her  before  I  made  that  turn 
or  stay  with  her  until  she  ran  herself  down.  She  was 
all  the  fiercer  as  the  road  became  better  and  would 
utter  a  little  grunt  at  every  spring,  and  could  not  have 
helped  falling  before  long,  so  I  took  the  chance  of 
making  her  stumble  by  jerking  with  all  my  strength 
first  one  rein  and  then  the  other,  and  I  succeeded  in  so 
distracting  her  attention  that  at  the  bend  in  the  trail  I 
guided  her  straight  ahead.  She  wanted  the  trail  but 
the  light  and  building  and  my  efforts  confused  her  and 
slowed  her  down,  so  that  I  took  the  chance  of  leaving 
her  back.  I  had  a  good  hold  on  the  rein,  and  after  a 
hard  tussle  I  stopped  her  and  then  she  quieted  down. 
I  went  to  the  door  of  the  cabin  and  knocked,  and  a 
lady's  loice  from  within  said:  "Who  is  there?"  I  ex- 
plained who  I  was,  and  that  we  had  met  with  an  acci- 
dent and  wanted  to  borrow  an  augur.  She  said  she 
could  not  help  me  any,  thus  not  denying  that  there  was 
an  augur  in  the  house.  Having  risked  my  life  for 
one,  I  wanted  it,  so  I  explained  a  little  more  by  saying 
that  I  belonged  to  the  outfit  that  had  been  hauling  hay 
down  the  valley,  and  that  she  had  probably  seen  us 
go  up  after  this  load,  and  if  she  could  lend  us  an  augur 
it  would  be  left  at  the  house  in  the  morning  as  we 
came  down.  But  she  said,  "My  husband  is  away  and 
I  can  not  open  the  door.  I  judged  by  her  voice  that 
she  was  a  real  lady  and  that  she  was  troubled  at  not 
being  able  to  assist  us,  so  I  managed  to  say:  "Very 
well,  good  night/'  But  the  thought  that  there  was  an 
augur  in  that  house  and  I  could  not  have  it  was  ex- 


114 

asperating.  I  led  Belle  back  to  a  camping  place  not 
easily  forgotten. 

I  now  realized  the  value  of  the  team  I  drove,  and 
this  added  to  my  care  for  the  night  and  made  me  keep 
a  lookout  for  any  strange  noise,  as  horse  thieves  were 
quite  numerous,  and  every  few  days  a  man  was  hanged 
or  shot  at  Rosebud  and  other  nearby  places,  either  for 
stealing  horses  or  robbing  in  some  other  way. 

The  cold  was  penetrating  and  the  night  was  long. 
After  a  supper  of  meat  and  toasted  bread  without 
coffee,  we  tried  to  sleep,  but  with  no  great  degree  of 
success.  Our  bedding  was  sufficient  for  any  common 
outdoor  condition,  but  the  cold  was  intense  and  the 
animals  were  restless  and  kept  begging  for  shelter. 
They  all  pawed  the  frozen  ground  by  spells  and  the 
bays  gave  plaintive  whimpers  as  they  grew  colder 
from  lack  of  exercise.  The  wind  ceased  but  the  air, 
usually  dry  in  this  high  country  where  it  seldom  rains 
or  snows  became  somewhat  damp  and  thus  terribly 
cold.  I  got  up  and  took  the  blanket  off  from  Doll  and 
buckled  it  over  the  one  already  on  Belle  and  then  did 
the  same  with  the  mules  and  turned  the  naked  animals 
loose  so  they  could  exercise ;  this  added  to  the  comfort 
of  them  all,  but  not  to  the  quiet  of  the  camp.  It  was 
a  question  whether  I  preferred  to  lie  by  the  fire  or 
under  the  blankets,  and  it  resulted  in  an  attempt  to 
blend  the  two  and  the  burning  of  one  corner  of  my 
buffalo  skin  coat,  for  which  I  had  paid  eighteen  dollars, 
was  the  result. 

Animals  on  the  bluffs  added  their  dismal  cries  to  the 
fretful  calls  of  the  captive  horse  and  mule  for  their 


115 

rambling  mates.     Altogether  they  succeeded  in  making 
it  a  miserable  night  for  me. 

A  glow  in  the  east  was  welcome.  I  routed  John,  who 
had  been  able  to  get  more  sleep  than  myself.  We 
partook  of  our  simple  meal,  and  then  telling  him  to 
catch  the  straying  animals  and  harness  them  all  I  at- 
tacked the  broken  wagon  problem.  I  hacked  a  notch 
in  the  sides  of  both  pieces  of  the  reach  and  lashed  them 
together.  We  were  on  the  trail  again  by  sunrise  and 
reached  camp  without  farther  mishap. 


SECTION  XVII. 

My  next  work  was  to  skid  the  piling  timbers  down 
the  canyons  to  the  right  of  way  along  the  grade.  Very 
few  pines  grew  where  there  was  a  good  chance  to  drive 
to  them,  as  most  of  them  stood  out  from  the  sides  of 
sloping  rocky  bluffs.  Often  we  drove  one  team  or 
both  far  up  in  a  ravine  and  circled  around  on  to  the 
first  level,  above  which  formed  the  top  of  the  bluff,  and 
let  chains  down  the  sides  of  the  mountain  to  the  end 
of  a  timber,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  team  we  could 
straighten  the  log  more  nearly  up  and  down,  then  tak- 
ing off  the  chain  and  with  the  canthook  and  levers  give 
it  a  start,  and  let  it  go  down  into  the  canyon  below, 
and  when  we  found  a  good,  smooth  place  from  top  to 
bottom  we  would  draw  as  many  as  possible  from  along 
the  brink  and  shoot  them  down  to  the  bottom.  These 
pile  timbers  varied  from  twenty  to  fifty  feet  in  length, 
and  as  they  went  down  the  precipice  they  would  tear 


116 

through  the  dead  cedars  and  bushes  and  rattle  over  and 
against  the  rocks  with  a  boom  and  bang,  that  would 
echo  and  re-echo  from  the  sides  of  the  deep  canyon 
which  in  some  cases  was  rock  walled,  and  straight  up 
for  hundreds  of  feet,  yet  there  were  more  of  the  can- 
yons whose  sides  were  sloping,  and  frequently  the 
slope  was  enough  so  that  timbers  would  not  run  down 
alone  and  yet  did  not  require  steady  pulling.  This  was 
a  dangerous  job  and  many  times  the  team  would  be 
jerked  by  the  sudden  lurch  of  a  timber  sidewise  or 
down.  We  were  often  obliged  to  drive  the  teams  on 
slopes  of  rock  where,  if  they  had  lost  their  footing, 
they  could  not  have  kept  from  going  to  the  bottom. 

The  only  thing  that  made  is  possible  to  get  many  of 
these  valuable  timbers,  was  the  fact  that  the  animals 
realized  their  danger  and  adapted  to  themselves  a  care- 
ful cat-like  step.  They  would  sometimes  hesitate  be- 
fore starting  in  the  direction  that  the  rein  guided  them, 
and  look  back  over  their  shoulders  with  a  pitiful  glance 
as  though  saying,  Are  you  sure  this  is  the  only  way  to 
go  with  this  log?  Many  times  there  was  only  one 
way  and  that  barely  fit  for  a  mountain  goat  to  travel. 

We  wore  arctics  on  our  feet,  and  the  rubber  soles 
made  them  as  good  for  traveling  on  the  rocks  as  river 
boots  were  for  walking  slippery  logs. 

When  the  calks  on  the  horses'  shoes  got  worn  smooth 
they  could  not  stand  well  on  the  sliding  places,  and  I 
wanted  the  animals  re-shod  about  twice  as  often  as  the 
boss  wanted  to  pay  the  bills.  But  I  learned  how  to  get 
my  way,  and  that  was  to  say,  "Very  well,  if  they  go 
over  the  bluff  don't  blame  me.  He  artfully  kept  all 


117 

the  responsibility  on  me,  and  when  I  urged  him  to 
come  up  the  canyon  and  see  why  it  was  we  could  not 
land  more  timbers  at  the  skidways  in  a  day  or  a  week, 
he  was  sure  to  be  more  needed  among  the  wood-chop- 
pers and  tie-hewers.  This  work  was  very  exhausting 
to  the  teams,  for  in  our  endeavors  to  accomplish  some- 
thing each  day  that  could  be  reported  at  night,  we 
worked  very  hard,  often  only  being  able  to  land  three 
or  four  in  a  day  at  the  skidway.  Many  times  in  order 
to  save  the  teams  from  being  precipitated  to  the  rocks 
below  we  had  to  come  to  the  rescue  with  canthooks 
and  catch  into  the  sliding  logs  throwing  the  reins  to 
the  ground.  Right  here,  on  these  arid  peaks,  came  in 
play  all  the  tact  and  nerve  that  I  had  acquired  on  the 
river  drive,  and  among  the  falling  timbers  in  eastern 
woods.  I  had  grown  used  to  harsh  treatment  of  teams 
and  teamsters,  but  the  mute  appeal  in  the  eyes  of 
Belle  as  she  felt  her  feet  giving  way,  or  the  groan  of 
one  of  the  mules  when  in  despair,  always  brought  me 
to  their  aid  with  the  hook  and  not  the  whip. 

The  great  danger  was  in  letting  a  log  slew  around 
until  it  was  straight  up  and  down  the  slope,  for  then 
it  would  begin  to  run  endwise,  and  if  it  was  all  one  or 
both  span  could  draw  sidewise  to  the  hill,  it  was  more 
than  they  could  do  to  hold  it  if  it  slewed  around 
straight  with  the  slope,  and  the  only  thing  to  do  was 
to  catch  it  with  a  canthook  having  a  stout  handle ;  and 
if  we  could  not  hold  it  then,  let  the  hook  hold  in  the 
log  and  the  handle  dig  into  the  ground,  and  if  the  team 
was  stopped  quick  enough  the  hook  would  hold  it. 
The  job  of  hooking  a  slewing  log,  is  hot  enough  for 


118 

any  river  man,  and  usually  I  had  to  let  the  others  drive 
and  take  my  chance  with  the  team. 

One  of  the  pictures  that  I  think  of  in  the  past  that 
always  starts  a  lump  in  my  throat,  and  makes  it  hard 
for  me  to  write  about,  is  where  the  poor  animals  were 
being  drawn  backward  down  the  slope.  The  great 
elevation  and  often  narrow  necks  of  the  minor  peaks 
on  which  we  drew  logs  sometimes  to  get  them  to  a 
suitable  place  to  shoot  them  down  the  bluffs  into  the 
canyon  below,  caused  the  teams  to  be  all  the  time  ap- 
prehensive of  danger,  and  more  so  after  each  misfor- 
tune. Sometimes  in  our  haste  to  get  them  all  off  from 
a  peak  so  as  not  to  have  to  come  to  that  place  again, 
we  rushed  things  a  little  too  much,  and  took  great  risks 
if  there  were  trees  or  rocks  to  guard  along  the  side; 
should  we  loose  control  of  a  timber,  occasionally  a  tim- 
ber would  cut  around  in  spite  of  us  and  drag  the  ani- 
mals backward.  They  would  not  allow  themselves  to 
be  thrown  down  unless  something  tripped  them,  but 
would  hold  their  positions  and  scratch  with  their 
corked  shoes  across  the  frozen  dirt  and  rocks  just  like 
cats  when  dragged  by  the  tail,  and  their  terror  was 
pitiful  to  behold. 

One  morning  orders  were  given  to  cross  the  river  on 
the  ice  and  move  the  cook  and  his  outfit  across  to  our 
shanties,  then  start  after  more  hay.  I  told  John  to 
take  the  mules,  and  I  left  the  bays  at  the  stable.  The 
fiver  was  now  all  frozen  over  and  we  crossed  with  the 
team  where  we  used  to  go  with  a  boat  when  the 
shanties  over  there  were  being  built.  We  put  the  cook 
stove  in  last,  at  the  back  end  of  the  box,  and  the  end- 


119 

gate  would  not  go  in.  There  were  about  a  half  dozen 
of  us  and  when  everything  was  loaded  I  told  them  to 
come  carefully,  and  I  went  ahead  to  cut  a  binding  pole 
and  have  it  ready  to  put  on  the  wagon  when  they  came 
along,  as  we  needed  a  new  pole  for  one  of  the  hayracks. 
As  they  drove  up  a  bank  there  was  no  one  watching 
the  stove  and  it  slid  out  and  broke  off  one  of  the  oven 
doors  when  it  struck  the  ground.  It  was  a  new,  large 
square  stove  and  it  was  a  pity  to  use  it  so.  When  they 
came  to  where  I  was  waiting  for  them  I  put  the  bind- 
ing pole  on  and  went  along  with  the  load  to  the  camp. 
They  said  nothing  to  me  about  the  stove  being  broken. 
At  the  shanty  door  I  left  the  same  men  to  unload  and 
I  took  the  pole  over  to  the  stable  where  another  man 
was  rigging  up  the  hay  racks.  I  was  anxious  to  get 
started  and  was  busy  getting  ready  as  I  heard  the  voice 
of  the  boss,  who  said,  "Broke  the  stove  1"  Some  one 
had  ventured  to  give  the  information  that  they  had  had 
an  accident  on  the  way.  After  taking  a  look  and  see- 
ing the  condition  of  it,  he  broke  out,  and  such  a  demon- 
stration of  unrestrained  brutishness  as  he  made,  I  had 
never  witnessed  before;  the  climax  not  being  reached 
until  he  declared  he  would  shoot  every  one  of  them, 
and  made  a  dash  for  his  gun  which  was  inside  the 
shanty.  When  he  got  outside  again  there  was  no  one 
to  shoot  but  the  teamster,  and  he  stood  by  the  team 
with  a  gun  in  his  hand,  but  concealing  it,  and  he  being 
a  favorite  escaped  without  fighting  for  his  life.  Not 
long  before  this  the  boss  had  come  to  me  and  asked 
me  not  to  be  so  harsh  with  the  men,  and  named  this 
one ;  nevertheless,  if  he  had  known  that  John  had  his 


120 

revolver  in  his  hand,  one  of  them  would  surely  have 
been  killed.  Such  things  were  occuring  very  often. 
I  knew  that  I  must  answer  for  some  responsibility,  and 
though  I  did  not  enjoy  the  prospect,  I  walked  over  and 
asked  how  it  happened,  addressing  John.  He  ex- 
plained, directing  his  reply  to  both  the  boss  and  me. 
I  was  asked  why  I  left  the  team  and  load.  I  ex- 
plained that  I  did  not  think  that  any  of  the  others 
would  cut  a  pole  that  would  suit  me,  and  I  thought 
that  after  I  had  seen  everything  loaded,  the  rest  of 
them  ought  to  be  able  to  bring  it  part  way  without  me, 
as  we  were  going  to  be  late  starting  to  Rosebud  valley. 
This  seemed  to  be  the  right  course  and  he  gave  me  a 
look  of  about  half  respect,  and  said,  "Always  tend  to 
everything  yourself,  don't  trust  anything  to  these 
roundheads. "  There  was  a  thinning  out  of  boarders,  I 
assure  you.  They  may  have  had  round  heads,  but 
they  did  not  want  them  used  for  targets. 

Once  out  on  the  trail  again  after  hay  the  bays  knew 
the  way  and  I  had  time  to  think  a  little.  I  cannot  re- 
call any  particular  thoughts  but  the  conclusion  of  the 
whole  matter  was,  that  it  would  have  been  better  for 
me  had  I  secured  a  better  education  and  been  able  to 
hold  a  better  position,  as  it  was  not  very  encouraging 
to  be  a  straw  boss  foreman  and  risk  my  life  once  or 
twice  a  day  on  the  average,  to  save  the  property  of  a 
man  who  was  ready  with  his  gun  to  stop  me  from  ever 
drawing  my  pay  if  he  could  excuse  himself  to  a  vigi- 
lance committee  by  saying  that  I  was  destroying  his 
property,  and  it  looked  as  though  that  might  happen. 

The  hay  trip  was  made  and  work  moved  along  as 


121 

usual.  Not  everything  was  danger,  for  after  the  storm 

comes  the  more  pleasant  weather.  Our  log  establish- 
ment was  divided  into  two  parts,  the  back  part  being 
bunk  room  and  kitchen  combined.  The  front  was  the 
dining-room  and  saloon. 

One  Sunday  the  boss  said  to  me,  "Come  get  out  one 
of  the  teams  and  I'll  show  you  where  there  is  a  barrel, 
the  revenue  inspectors  have  passed  and  we  can  have 
something  for  the  front  room/'  The  freighters  who, 
with  their  great  string  of  mules  or  oxen,  were  continu- 
ally passing  up  and  down  past  our  door,  were  always 
wanting  something  to  drink.  Stage  drivers  and  their 
passengers  often  stopped  for  a  drink  and  sometimes 
to  feed  their  teams  and  stay  over  night.  The  place 
soon  became  one  of  drunken  scenes. 

I  will  tell  you  about  Pete's  only  pie.  All  young  fel- 
lows like  pie,  and  though  I  passed  everywhere  for  a 
man,  I  was  not  yet  of  age  and  must  have  been  some- 
what boyish,  for  I  liked  that  kind  of  food  and  was  in- 
terested when  Pete  said  that  he  would  make  a  pie  out 
of  tomatoes.  He  did  not  claim  to  be  a  cook  when  he 
came  to  the  camp,  but  the  cook  disappeared  one  time 
after  there  had  been  a  sensational  disturbance  in  camp, 
and  the  boss  told  Pete  to  cook,  and  he  had  no  other 
alternative.  He  was  also  the  bartender,  and  between 
the  cooking  in  the  back  room  and  the  cares  of  the  bar- 
rel and  boozers  in  the  front,  things  sometimes  got  a 
little  mixed.  One  thing  that  made  a  complete  treasure 
of  Pete  was  his  good  nature,  in  which  he  differed  from 
any  camp  cook  that  I  had  ever  met  thus  far  in  my  camp 
life.  He  could  make  bread  and  there  were  cans  of  to- 


122 

matoes — that  being  the  only  fruit  available — so  he  used 
it.  He  made  two  crusts  the  right  shape,  put  in  the 
sauce,  but  how  he  fastened  them  together  around  the 
edge  he  never  explained.  He  made  a  mistake  by  tack- 
ling it  one  day  when  the  stove  smoked  and  the  pie  took 
on  an  unfavorable  color,  but  we  had  eaten  pies  before 
then  that  were  even  burned  on  one  side,  and  were  not 
a  bit  shocked  by  the  color.  It  seemed  at  first  a  pity 
that  he  could  not  have  made  more  of  them  at  the  same 
time,  for  this  one  had  to  be  cut  into  such  small  pieces 
to  make  it  go  around.  When  we  started  in  on  the 
feast  it  seemed  to  be  a  little  tough,  the  fruit  oozed  out 
at  the  sides  and  what  I  could  get  of  that  was  very  good. 
We  disliked  to  leave  any  on  Pete's  account,  and  so 
stayed  with  it,  but  somehow  Pete  collected  evidence 
against  his  first  effort  and  did  not  try  again. 

It  was  getting  close  to  spring,  the  ice  on  the  river 
would  soon  begin  to  melt,  and  there  was  quite  a  lot  of 
wood  to  be  drawn  across,  and  piled  up  on  the  railroad 
right  of  way,  so  that  when  the  track  was  laid  and  the 
trains  came,  the  wood  could  be  loaded  on  the  flat  cars 
and  be  taken  east  to  Dakota  and  other  prairie  countries 
where  it  would  bring  a  high  price.  The  river  banks 
were  steep  at  even  the  best  places,  usually  about  fifteen 
feet  high,  and  perpendicular  much  of  the  way.  The 
best  place  that  we  could  find  for  getting  up  on  the  west 
bank  was  quite  steep  and  we  were  obliged  to  double 
up  at  every  trip.  We  usually  put  on  about  a  half  cord, 
but  a  half  cord  of  green  four-foot  cottonwood  is  quite 
heavy  and  we  had  no  breaks  on  our  wagons,  and  many 
perplexing  predicaments  we  got  into,  among  the 


123 

stumps,  against  the  rocks  and  on  the  steep  banks.  The 
wood  was  very  coarse  and  many  unsplit  logs  were  all, 
and  sometimes  more,  than  one  could  lift.  I  was  worn 
out  with  work  and  injuries  of  the  past  few  months  and 
was  losing  my  ambition  when  an  accident  happened 
that  brought  about  a  change.  I  started  down  the  bank 
with  a  load  of  wood  at  the  same  place  where  we  had 
passed  down  several  times,  there  was  a  little  drop  from 
the  hard  frozen  dirt  down  to  the  ice,  so  we  had  some 
pieces  of  wood  there  to  ease  the  wagons  down  to  the 
ice.  This  time  the  bays  could  not  keep  their  footing 
and  the  incline  was  so  steep  that  the  weight  of  the  load 
instantly  overpowered  the  team  and  shoved  them 
along.  They  displaced  the  bridge  chunks  at  the  edge 
of  the  ice  thus  allowing  the  wagon  wheels  to  drop 
abruptly  on  the  ice,  by  this  time  both  horses  had  their 
feet  and  were  doing  their  best  to  hold  back  the  load, 
but  when  the  hind  wheels  struck  the  ice  there  was  a 
loud  crack  and  I  stopped  and  examined  the  axle,  it 
was  broken  almost  entirely  in  two.  This  was  the  sec- 
ond axle  broken  and  I  knew  that  this  would  be  unac- 
ceptable news  in  the  camp  and  no  knowing  how  much 
or  what  would  be  said.  I  took  some  time  to  think, 
then  unhitched,  towed  the  other  man  up  the  bank  and 
told  him  to  keep  at  work  and  only  put  on  what  he 
could  make  them  handle  alone.  I  had  decided  by  this 
time  that  though  I  had  the  finest  team  that  I  had  ever 
driven,  I  would  not  hitch  them  up  again.  There  was 
not  another  wagon  about  the  place  and  I  had  never 
seen  much  reason  connected  with  any  of  the  trying 


124 

circumstances  at  this  camp  and  had  no  thought  of  it 
being  introduced  now.  There  was  much  wood  yet  on 
the  east  side  and  the  thought  of  only  one  wagon  at 
work  would  be  irritating  to  a  man  of  much  milder  dis- 
position than  our  boss.  I  would  go  into  camp  and  de- 
mand a  settlement  with  him ;  let  the  result  be  what  it 
would. 

When  I  told  him  what  I  wanted,  he  gave  me  a  look 
original  with  himself  and  indescribable,  but  I  think  not 
altogether  unlike  that  of  a  surprised  lion.  He  asked 
what  was  the  matter  and  I  told  him  that  one  of  the 
wagons  was  disabled,  so  only  one  teamster  was  needed 
and  to  let  the  other  man  work.  He  asked  how  it  hap- 
pened and  I  told  him,  and  that  unless  brakes  were  pro- 
vided the  other  one  would  not  last  long.  To  my  as* 
tonishment,  he,  instead  of  going  into  a  frenzy,  sat  down 
and  wrote  out  my  time  check.  He  was  very  angry  and 
a  little  perplexed,  but  after  handing  me  the  check  he 
began  to  try  to  persuade  me  to  remain  and  get  the 
wood  across  the  river  for  him,  but  I  held  to  a  respectful, 
but  firm  attitude.  It  was  evideitt  that  he  gave  the 
check  so  readily,  only  as  a  show  of  fairness  to  be  fol- 
lowed up  by  a  course  of  propositions.  My  own  de- 
meanor was  also  different  after  I  had  pocketed  the 
check. 


SECTION  XVIII. 

I  was  successful,  and  was  soon  traveling  toward 
Miles  City,  but  as  I  walked  the  grade  with  my 
bundle  on  my  back  there  was  time  to  think  about  what 


125 

kind  of  a  country  I  was  in  and  what  sort  of  people  had 
possession  of  it.  I  had  worked  in  several  camps  east 
and  west.  Where  did  I  like  it  the  best,  and  what  did 
I  want  next?  I  did  not  make  a  decision  on  these  ques- 
tions at  that  time.  I  just  allowed  myself  to  be  drifted 
about;  but  I  ask  you  to  consider  what  I  had  to  show 
for  six  years  of  hard  work.  It  was  all  with  me,  as  I 
passed  by  those  dreary  peaks  of  towering  yellow  rocks 
after  which  the  valley  is  named;  and  they  were  fit 
monuments,  with  their  patches  of  dead  cedar  brush, 
for  many  a  man  whose  remains  lie  at  their  feet  along 
the  Yellowstone  trail  where  over  one  hundred  men 
were  murdered  during  the  time  of  the  building  of  the 
Northern  Pacific  Railroad  through  this  valley.  The 
great  amount  of  money  in  the  hands  of  careless  men 
who  labored  on  the  road,  and  the  territory  being  far 
separated  from  the  states  made  it  a  choice  place  for 
robbers  of  all  kinds,  and  it  was  a  common  thing  at 
Rosebud  for  a  drunken  man  to  be  drugged  or  clubbed 
to  death  at  night  for  the  money  that  he  had  foolishly 
displayed,  but  I  was  one  of  the  number  that  heeded 
the  warning  of  others  and  kept  sober. 

I  followed  the  trail  toward  the  pay  car  of  the  North- 
ern Pacific  which  was  between  Miles  City  and  Rose- 
bud. I  had  checks  for  about  fifty  dollars,  in  a  land 
where  it  would  board  me  sixteen  or  eighteen  days  if  I 
furnished  my  own  bed,  which  I  was  obliged  to  carry 
with  me.  It  cost  me  eight  and  one-half  dollars,  and 
consisted  of  two  double  wool  blankets. 

I  had  a  poor  dilapidated  body  with  which  to 
apply  for  another  job.  I  had  a  dread  of  showing  what 


126 

there  was  left  of  me  to  the  very  man  that  I  had  served 
with  an  ability  that  could  be  equaled  by  few  of  the 
three  thousand  men  working  in  that  valley.  I  had  a 
lack  of  an  education  that  qualified  me  for  anything 
better  than  I  had  been  doing.  How  had  I  accumulated 
all  this.  I  ask  you  to  reconsider  all  that  I  have  written, 
then  you  will  see  how  I  did  it,  but  I  will  tell  you  why 
I  did  it. 

When  I  was  about  thirteen  years  of  age,  on  my  way 
home  from  school  one  day,  I  picked  up  a  small  book  in 
the  sleigh  track.  I  brushed  off  the  snow  and  looked  at 
it.  On  the  front  cover  was  th&  small  round  fac-simile 
of  a  ten-cent  piece  and  the  words  "one  dime."  I  read 
a  little  of  it  and  was  intensely  interested.  I  took  it 
home  and  showed  it  to  mother;  she  said,  "I  do  not 
think  you  had  better  read  it."  But  the  book  was  so 
fascinating  that  it  could  take  right  hold  of  a  boy  and 
not  let  him  rest  until  he  had  finished  it.  It  shaped 
my  thoughts  and  was  a  part  of  what  led  me  into  a 
rover's  life. 

I  did  not  realize  that  it  was  all  an  artful  falsehood, 
and  I  thirsted  for  that  kind  of  books,  and  that  kind  of 
life,  for  it  showed  up  frontier  life  in  such  an  attractive 
way.  My  brother  gave  me  another  one  of  these  books 
and  then  I  could  get  more,  and  after  I  learned  that 
there  were  none  of  them  true,  I  still  wanted  to  read 
them,  but  for  the  pleasure  of  it,  and  did  so  as  much  as 
possible  without  mother  knowing  it.  But  it  spoiled 
my  desire  for  school  books  and  made  it  easy  for  me  to 
quit  school  and  go  to  the  woods. 

Two  years  after  I  left  the  broken  wagon  on  the  ice 


127 

of  the  Yellowstone  river  I  left  a  lumber  camp  in  Michi- 
gan. I  was  drilled  out  and  sick.  I  went  to  stay  a 
while  and  rest  up,  with  a  friend  by  the  name  of  Atkins, 
in  that  state.  He  charged  me  but  a  moderate  price  for 
my  board  and  tried  to  show  me  a  mistake  that  I  had 
made  in  chosing  that  kind  of  life,  and  not  getting  an 
education.  I  had  been  staring  at  that  mistake  for  sev- 
eral years.  I  had  no  education.  He  wanted  me  to  see 
it  and  I  had  been  seeing  it  more  than  I  wanted  to.  He 
was  called  the  stingiest  man  in  the  country  but  he 
gave  me  something  while  at  his  home,  worth  more  than 
all  that  I  had  earned  in  the  years  I  had  worked  for 
wages.  He  gave  me  the  idea  that  if  a  man  would  read 
the  best  papers  and  study  the  right  books  at  home  he 
could  become  sufficiently  educated  to  carry  on  any  or- 
dinary business  and  I  was  encouraged  to  begin  at  once. 
He  took  the  Otsego  Union,  Chicago  Interocean,  and 
the  National  Tribune,  but  I  found  it  hard  to  remember 
what  I  read  in  them.  I  was  so  given  to  novel  reading 
and  not  trying  to  remember  that  I  had  lost  the  ability 
to  memorize  anything  I  read  like  I  used  to  when  going 
to  school.  This  showed  me  that  novels  had  not  only 
kept  my  attention  from  study,  but  had  caused  me  to 
form  a  habit  that  was  antagonistic  to  real  study.  This 
was  discouraging  but  I  was  tired  of  knowing  little 
more  than  the  ox  that  I  drove,  and  my  little  stock  of 
•good  sense  rebelled  against  the  life  that  I  had  lived. 
I  had  broken  the  tobacco  habit  a  year  before  this  time 
because  I  saw  that  it  was  destroying  my  health,  and 
now  I  had  decided  to  leave  the  low  associations  of 
camp  life  and  be  something  else  than  a  lumber  jack  or 


128 

a  railroad  grader.  I  .was  bound  by  a  wrongly  trained 
mind,  but  having  discovered  my  enemy  I  would  be  on 
my  guard  against  him.  I  burned  my  novels  and  read 
upon  useful  lines,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  was  hard 
for  me  to  accomplish  much,  but  I  was  disabled  for 
hard  work  by  injuries  received  in  camp  and  could  do 
little  else  than  read  or  study.  I  got  a  few  books  and 
pencil  and  made  them  worth  something  to  me,  much 
more  than  they  cost.  I  soon  was  able  to  do  light  work. 
I  tried  my  hand  again  at  trapping  the  sly  coon  and 
mink,  and  made  fair  wages  at  it.  My  friend  with 
whom  I  boarded  caught  the  idea  that  there  was  money 
in  pelts.  He  got  a  few  traps  and  tramped  the  woods 
and  swamps  a  little  while  with  fair  success,  but  his 
way  was  to  make  money  with  his  head,  and  his  legs 
rebelled  against  the  required  service,  so  he  proposed 
to  me  that  we  speculate  in  hides. 

To  get  a  dollar  without  earning  it  once  or  twice  was 
foreign  to  my  practice  or  expectation,  but  he  showed 
me  that  he  figured  his  way  through  and  that  he  was 
winning  out,  not  usually  working  hard,  yet  he  had  laid 
up  enough  to  buy  out  some  of  his  neighbors  the  most 
of  whom,  I  discovered,  were  envious  of  him  because 
of  his  success,  and  disliked  him  more  because  of  this, 
than  because  of  his  reputed  stinginess.  I  found  him 
honest.  He  said,  "We  will  buy  pelts  and  furs  and  sell 
them  for  a  profit."  My  part  was  easy,  as  this  was 
close  to  my  old  trapping  ground  and  I  knew  all  of  the 
old  trappers  in  the  country.  I  bought  most  of  their 
furs ;  he  furnished  the  money  and  then  resold  them. 
We  made  it  pay  and  he  got  me  interested  in  things 


129 

above  what  I  was  used  to.  In  a  year's  time  I  could  do 
business  alone  and  was  trying  to  improve  upon  my 
old  self.  Soon,  I  was  married  and  my  wife  was  a  great 
help  to  me  in  my  efforts  at  self-improvement,  she  hav- 
ing had  some  experience  in  school  work.  She  advised 
that  we  go  to  school  again,  after  which  she  would  teach 
and  I  should  get  lighter  work.  This  plan  was  a  suc- 
cess. She  taught  while  it  seemed  necessary  and  best, 
and  I  started  a  little  business  of  my  own,  dealing  in 
pictures  and  picture  frames  with  satisfactory  results, 
at  Lake  Odessa,  Mich.,  which  is  about  ten  miles  from 
Clarksville,  where  we  finished  our  schooling  (though 
we  studied  there  only  one  term)  and  thus  ended  my 
school  days,  which  had  been  broken  by  such  an  unwise 
vacation,  and  I  will  end  this  writing  by  saying: 

"Stay  in  school  and  warn    others    against    mixing 
stuides  and  novels  together." 


130 

PART  II. 
SECTION  XIX. 

A  letter  to  his  niece,  by  the  author  of  School 

Days  and  Lumber  Camp  Life. 
To  Bessie: 

Dear  Niece : — Having  not  had  a  chance  to  speak 
with  you  since  you  have  grown  large  enough  to  be 
likely  to  take  up  any  reading  of  your  own  accord,  I 
will  now  write  you  a  letter  of  advice  on  this  line.  Al- 
though I  feel  sure  that  your  mother  has  made  efforts 
to  forestall  your  mind  with  correct  ideas  of  selecting 
literature. 

First,  I  want  to  recommend  that  you  read  histories, 
and  especially  the  biographies  of  people  of  our  own 
country,  those  who  have  lived  useful  lives  and  have 
left  some  of  their  works  to  show  that  their  lives  were 
useful.  It  is  interesting  to  read  of  people  who  have 
so  lived  that  the  people  have  voluntarily  set  up  monu- 
ments in  remembrance  of  them. 

Of  course  I  have  no  knowledge  of  how  much  you 
usually  read,  but  I  am  sure  that  there  are  some  com- 
panionable books  that  you  will  find  sufficiently  in- 
teresting; and  the  most  beautiful  feature  of  the  biogra- 
phies of  our  best  men  and  women  is  that  the  study  of 
them  makes  us  better.  The  associating  with  them 
shows  us  how  we  can  and  why  we  should  be  improv- 
ing ourselves  and  the  excellent  outcome  of  their  efforts 
will  not  fail  to  inspire  you  with  determination  to  im- 
prove yourself;  and  with  such  object  in  mind  the  op- 
portunity will  surely  not  be  lacking  for  the  desire  will 


131 

cause  you  to  make  yourself  more  useful  and  lovable  at 
home. 

However,  we  find  that  those  people  for  whom  the 
nation  is  setting  up  monuments  were  travelers  "up 
stream ;"  and  we  cannot  drift  that  way ;  it  means  work, 
but  we  should  make  advancement  and  they  are  our 
present  helpers  just  as  truly  as  it  can  be  said  that  they 
have  been  in  the  past. 

When  you  leave  biographies  of  'Americans,  take 
other  American  histories,  then  after  that  the  noted 
people  of  foreign  lands  before  the  more  tedious  details 
of  their  countries  which  will  become  more  interesting 
after  you  have  made  some  acquaintance  over  there. 

Be  sure  that  you  do  not  let  anything  else  crowd  out 
your  school  studies ;  make  sure  to  get  as  good  an  edu- 
cation as  you  can,  your  mother  can  tell  you  how  great 
a  mistake  I  made  in  not  stoying  in  school,  and  I  am 
now  very  far  from  being  as  useful  as  I  might  be  if  I 
had  a  good  common  education. 

The  thought  occurs  to  me  now  that  it  might  be  well 
to  guard  my  recommendation  to  read  histories,  for  all 
kinds  of  stuff  is  sometimes  marked  Histories,  Founded 
on  Facts,  and  other  misleading  statements  connected 
with  the  class  of  stories  which  are  much  used  by  those 
who  read  merely  for  pastime. 

Reading  for  pastime  is  all  right  provided  we  choose 
writings  that  will  be  beneficial  to  us  as  we  think  about 
them  afterward ;  for  we  should  never  permit  ourselves 
to  read  or  listen  to  anything  that  is  not  worth  recon- 
sidering and  remembering,  and  when  you  find  that  you 
have  started  in  on  a  book  that  is  not  sufficiently  in- 


132 

teresting  to  hold  your  attention,  then  stop  right  there ; 
try  and  recall  what  you  have  read,  what  you  liked  and 
what  you  did  not  like,  then  lay  it  aside  with  fixed  opin- 
ions of  it,  and  possibly  sometime  you  will  wish  to  read 
some  more  of  it;  but  do  not  go  on  turning  the  leaves 
and  reading  a  page  here  and  a  few  lines  there ;  for  in 
that  way  you  only  get  a  vague  idea  of  the  writer's  in- 
tent and  are  not  justified  in  condemning  the  whole 
book,  and  you  will  lose  hold  on  the  thoughts  that  you 
had  from  the  thorough  reading  of  the  front  part,  where 
you  gave  the  author  a  fair  chance  to  do  something  for 
you. 

When  one  reads  carefully  a  while,  then  turns  the 
leaves  and  skips  along  the  balance ;  that  is,  reads  only 
the  most  attractive  portions,  is  when  one  of  the  most 
objectionable  reading  habits  gets  its  start.  When  one 
does  that  way  a  few  times -they  have  less  patience  than 
before  with  the  dry  portions  which  are  to  be  found  in 
some  good  books.  This  is  called  the  "skimming 
habit"  and  it  injures  one's  ability  to  stay  and  get  what 
some  of  the  best  writers  have  for  us,  and  lessens  our 
interest  in  books  of  the  best  class. 

I  am  still  regretting  that  thirty  years  back  in  the 
past  I  read  some  of  the  writings  that  are  for  pastime 
only;  that  made  almost  no  attempt  at  educating  the 
reader. 

Any  such  books  are  trash,  and  if  they  were  all 
burned  up  we  would  have  nothing  to  hinder  us  from 
choosing  among  the  helpful  ones. 

The  fact  is  helpful  writings  are  interesting,  but  the 
writers  of  pastime  trash  overdo  in  their  efforts  to  in- 


133 

terest  and  thus  become  so  sensational  that  their  pro- 
ductions not  only  fail  to  be  beneficial,  but  act  as  a 
barrier  to  the  better  works  and  are  in  themselves  in- 
jurious; they  are  mostly  novels,  and  if  you  will  have 
patience  with  me  I  will  explain  what  they  are  and 
how  they  affect  their  readers. 

They  are  a  distinct  class  of  fiction,  fiction  being 
divisible  into  many  parts. 

I  will  mention  three  of  them. 

The  part  that  comes  to  hand  in  our  earliest  years 
is  termed  the  fable.  In  which  the  writer  makes  it 
appear  that  the  animals,  the  trees  and  even  the  rocks 
and  hills  talk  as  though  they  contained  reasoning 
ability  and  voices. 

They  are  sometimes  very  useful  and  are  freely  used 
to  entertain  and  instruct  small  children. 

Then  comes  the  fictitious  moral  stories  by  people 
who  wish  to  teach  moral  lessons,  but  have  no  real  ac- 
counts at  hand  that  they  can  give.  So  they  endue  some 
imaginary  person  in  either  a  real  or  imaginary  place 
with  the  moral  quality  about  which  they  wish  to 
instruct  their  readers. 

Works  of  this  class  are  very  numerous,  and  they 
have  been  useful  in  very  many  instances,  no  doubt; 
however,  they  are  usurping  the  place  of  authentic 
accounts  to  an  alarming  extent.  The  lives  of  many  of 
the  people  to  whose  biographies  I  have  referred  you 
contain  manifestations  of  all  the  good  morals,  and 
there  is  a  solidity  to  the  inspiration  that  we  get  from 
them  that  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  made-to-order  arti- 
cle. 


134 

Some  people  call  these  stories  good  moral  fiction  and 
undoubtedly  the  term  is  applicable  to  many,  but  not 
all ;  for  some  of  these  writers  do  not  show  everything 
in  the  right  light  and  sometimes  the  writers  take  us 
away  among  bad  companions  and  seem  to  approve 
of  the  actions  of  this  bad  company  as  much  as  others. 

If  you  should  accidentally  get  hold  of  such  a  story 
be  careful  to  put  it  out  of  the  way  of  your  two  younger 
brothers. 


SECTION  XX. 

I  will  make  use  of  an  illustration  which  I  read  sev- 
eral years  ago.  If  I  only  had  the  little  slip  I  would 
send  it  to  you ;  but  I  can  give  the  substance  of  it  in  a 
better  way  perhaps  than  I  could  construct  an  expres- 
sion of  my  own  opinion  of  certain  writings.  It  ran 
like  this :  A  lady  and  her  daughter  were  walking  out. 
The  lady  carried  a  beautiful  rose.  The  daughter  had 
under  her  arm  a  certain  story  book,  and  the  lady 
noticing  it,  said,  "I  do  not  think  you  had  better  read 
that  story."  The  girl  replied,  "Oh!  this  is  all  right; 
there  is  a  beautiful  moral  in  it."  As  they  walked 
along  farther  they  came  to  a  muddy  filthy  pigpen. 
The  lady  halted  there  and  tossed  the  rose  from  her 
hand  to  the  center  of  the  pen,  and  to  the  surprise  of 
her  daughter,  she  added  astonishment  by  saying, 
"Bring  it  to  me  again."  The  young  lady  thought  it 
would  not  be  wrong  to  debate  the  propriety  of  such 
an  act  with  her  parent,  and  said,  "Why,  mother !  How 


135 

can  you  ask  me  to  step  into  such  a  place?"  And  the 
kind  mother  replied.  "I  only  wish  to  make  you  think 
what  you  do  in  reading  that  book;  for  you  can  not 
go  in  among  all  that  it  contains  after  that  little  moral 
and  come  out  unstained  by  the  filth  that  has  not  the 
right  light  turned  upon  it." 

I  regret  that  I  do  not  remember  more  of  the  partic- 
ulars of  the  story,  but  as  this  lack  of  ability  to  remem- 
ber what  I  read  is  the  direct  result  of  several  years  of 
carelessly  reading  that  which  I  knew  was  not  worth 
remembering,  it  spurs  me  along  to  give  you  the  bene- 
fit of  the  lesson  that  has  cost  me  so  much,  and  I  urge 
you  to  heed  this  long  letter  and  make  the  best  use 
of  these,  the  days  of  your  youth. 

I  will  pass  by  these  two  classes  of  fiction  at  once 
that  I  may  deal  more  thoroughly  with  the  third,  which 
is  the  novel. 

This  term  applies  to  fictitious  narratives  that  are 
written  to  exhibit  the  operations  of  the  passions,  and 
they  are  always  written  with  the  intent  to  enlist  the 
sympathy  of  the  reader  with  some  of  the  principal 
characters,  and  the  result  is  that  the  reader  is  continu- 
ously agitated  by  the  pen  pictures  of  the  novelist 
which  are  usually  overdrawn  and  unnatural  in  intens- 
ity. A  few  good  men  have  written  a  few  good  novels, 
but  as  the  term  good  cannot  be  applied  to  one  in  a 
thousand,  I  am  not  going  to  recommend  that  you 
read  any  at  all  until  after  you  have  become  acquainted 
with  the  best  of  the  flesh  and  bone  people.  I  consider 
them  the  best  company  after  having  proved  both  quite 
thoroughly. 


136 

The  following  are  the  conclusions  that  I  have  ar- 
rived at  during  twenty  years  of  watchfulness,  which  is 
the  result  of  the  consciousness  that  many  young  peo- 
ple are  now  making  the  same  mistake  that  I  did  when 
I  began  to  read  independent  of  the  advice  of  my  teach- 
ers. 

I  allowed  the  story  tellers  of  all  sorts  to  occupy  my 
mind  with  their  writings  until  I  discovered  that  they 
were  carrying  the  joke  too  far,  and  then  I  refused  to 
sit  like  a  musical  instrument  and  let  them  play  upon 
me  to  my  detriment  and  their  financial  betterment; 
for  the  novelist  does  play  upon  the  emotional  nature 
of  his  readers  in  much  the  same  manner  as  a  musician 
runs  over  the  keys  of  his  instrument.  The  names  of 
the  keys  which  the  novelist  uses  are  Hope,  Fear,  Pride, 
Desire,  Joy,  Grief,  Love  and  Hate.  This  he  does  by 
interesting  us  in  a  story  which  portrays  the  actions  of 
people  who  manifest  all  these  passions. 

It  is  impossible  for  people  to  read  the  intensely  in- 
teresting stories  of  love  and  adventure,  and  not  sym- 
pathize more  or  less  with  some  of  the  characters  who 
are  the  central  figures  that  are  passed  through  the 
experiences  that  make  such  stories  thrilling  to  the 
readers,  and  through  sympathy  the  writer  exercises 
the  emotional  nature  altogether  too  much  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  reader,  and  the  result  is  that  these  stories 
continuously  read  change  the  moral  character  of  their 
readers.  Many  young  ladies  of  the  best  disposition 
and  intent  have  read  and  reread  of  the  rash  but  always 
fortunate  acts  of  noted  beauties  who  in  unwarranted 
ways  give  their  word,  their  hand,  their  lips  and  them- 


137 

selves  under  questionable  conditions,  and  then  have 
thoughtlessly  done  likewise  themselves  who  would 
have  refrained  from  the  same  acts,  but  for  the  fact  of 
having  associated  mentally  with  many  of  the  careless 
but  apparently  successful  companions;  for  we  make 
companions,  in  a  sense,  of  every  one  whose  history 
we  study;  and  companions  influence  us,  in  a  degree. 
Thus  the  novelist  in  most  instances  alters  the  ideas 
and  the  actions  of  his  pupils  which  we  surely  are  as 
long  as  we  give  our  attention  to  the  productions  of  his 
imagination.  I  will  give  one  illustration  to  show  how 
the  character  is  altered  by  the  artistic  novelist.  It  is 
done  just  as  a  smith  forms  a  knife  from  a  file.  The 
smith  puts  a  fine  piece  of  steel  constituting  a  file  into 
the  fire  and  when  it  becomes  shapable  from  the  action 
of  the  heat  he  strikes  it  this  way  and  that  way,  making 
it  thin  and  smooth  and  fit  to  cut  wood,  bread  or  meat 
and  other  comparatively  soft  things;  whereas,  in  its 
other  form  it  would  cut  iron  bolts  and  bars,  or  sharpen 
the  teeth  of  a  steel  saw.  Evidently  he  has  changed 
the  nature  of  the  tool  just  as  the  novelist  handles  the 
emotional  nature  through  the  avenues  of  the  mind. 
By  his  artful  efforts,  he  soon  has  his  reader's  emotions 
under  control.  He  does  not  necessarily  or  usually  try 
to  injure  us  by  this  process.  He  just  wants  us  to  pay 
him  and  advertise  him,  and  he  knows  that  to  accom- 
lish  his  purpose  he  must  thrill  us  with  his  story,  and 
the  next  one  must  not  fall  short  in  its  thrilling  capa- 
city, for  fear  we  would  be  disappointed  and  neglect  his 
ministrations.  So  he  invents  something  more  just 
about  the  same  as  the  other,  only  more  intensely 


138 

striking,  if  he  can  produce  it ;  and  this  is  kept  up  week 
after  week,  and  the  result  is  not  that  he  has  intention- 
ally changed  the  character  of  his  continuous  reader, 
but  it  is  done  nevertheless  in  so  many  instances  that 
most  teachers  and  highly  moral  people  are  awake  to 
the  danger  that  lies  in  the  sensational  novel. 

The  use  of  each  successive  story  to  keep  the  reader's 
attention  on  his  special  line  of  thought;  and  the  con- 
tinuously occurring  routine  of  thrilling  experience  of 
the  sympathetic  reader  as  we  are  led  from  exciting 
scenes  of  joy,  danger,  love  and  hate,  that  surpass  any- 
thing real,  and  are  only  limited  by  the  imagination  of 
the  writers.  The  continuous  high  tension  of  the  stirred 
and  burning  passions,  in  the  hearts  of  young  people 
especially,  exhausts  the  gentle,  pure,  natural  emotions, 
leaving  them  partially  destroyed  and  unreliable,  just 
the  same  as  a  piece  of  steel  that  has  been  held  in  the 
fire  so  long  that  it  has  lost  its  natural  strength,  and  is 
crumbly,  so  that  a  good  smith  can  not  then  take  it  and 
depend  on  its  strength  or  shapability.  It  is  what 
smiths  call  "burned  up/'  and  is  not  fit  even  for  old 
junk  to  be  used  in  recasting  at  the  foundry;  it  main- 
tains its  size  though,  and  when  cast  into  the  junk  box 
is  liable  to  deceive  some  one. 

Now  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  met  you,  and  I  never 
have  received  any  communication  that  gave  me  reason 
to  think  that  you  in  particular  need  such  advice  as 
this,  but  believing  that  every  young  lady  needs  this 
much  assistance  lest  they  become  careless  about  their 
duty  to  themselves  on  this  line,  I  mail  it  to  you  as  a 
token  of  my  interest  in  you,  and  if  it  should  be  that  I 


139 

have  delayed  this  until  you  have  stumbled  into  the 
miserable  experience  that  I  did,  then  turn  down  such 
stuff  and  read  something  that  will  lift  you  up. 

Well,  no  more  for  this  time.     Write  soon. 

I  will  suggest  that  you  get  the  life  of  one  of  the 
noted  musicians  soon,  if  convenient.  If  you  find  no 
way  to  get  what  I  have  suggested  let  me  know  and  I 
will  find  a  way  to  help  you.  Tell  me,  in  your  reply, 
how  you  are  getting  along  with  your  music. 

From   your  uncle,  CHARLES. 


PART  III. 

SECTION  XXL 

MORE  DIRE  EFFECTS  OF  DIME  NOVELS. 

It  is  seldom  that  a  judge  from  the  bench  expresses 
himself  in  such  vigorous  terms  of  personal  desire  to 
impose  upon  a  criminal  a  more  severe  sentence  than 
the  circumstances  admit  as  did  Judge  Brentano  in  the 
criminal  court  of  this  city  on  the  I2th  instant.  Ad- 
dressing himself  to  two  young  men,  Guy  Locke,  eight- 
een years  of  age,  and  Thomas  Buffey,  twenty  years  of 
age,  who  had  pleaded  guilty  to  the  "murder  of  Peter 
Fafinsky,  a  grocer,  on  the  26th  of  April  last,  his  honor 
said : 

"It   is   my  sincere   regret;  that,   under  the   circum- 
stances, and  in  view  of  the  arrangement  made  here  in 


140 

this  case,  I  cannot  give  you  the  extreme  penalty  of  the 
law,  and  sentence  you  to  be  hanged.  You  ought  to 
be  hanged.  You  deserve  it.  It  is  the  sentence  of  this 
court  that  you  be  taken  to  the  penitentiary  at  Joliet — 
and  let  the  record  show  that  you  are  to  be  taken  forth- 
with, without  delay,  Mr.  Clerk — and  there  imprisoned 
behind  prison  bars  at  hard  labor  for  all  the  rest  of  the 
days  of  your  natural  life,  and  I  hope  that  you  may 
never  again  see  the  light  of  day  outside  the  prison 
walls." 

Confessions  from  both  of  the  boys'  were  read  in 
court,  and  it  was  shown  that  one  of  them  had  sus- 
tained a  wound  in  the  arm  during  the  struggle  in  which 
they  murdered  their  victim.  The  object  of  the  murder 
was  robbery,  as  the  confession  showed,  and  the  plot 
was  deliberately  planned.  The  boys  had  also  "held 
up"  a  butcher  on  the  South  side,  locking  him  in  the  ice 
box  while  they  plundered  the  cash  drawer.  There  are 
other  painful  details  to  the  confession  which  need  not 
be  related  here. 

A  brother  of  Buffey  was  present  at  the  trial,  having 
come  from  New  York,  at  the  solicitation  of  the  young 
renegade  criminal  after  the  commission  of  the  murden 
"Reading  dime  novels,"  the  elder  brother  is  quoted  as 
having  said,  "has  been  the  undoing  of  my  brother.  He 
developed  a  fascination  for  a  free  and  wild  life,  and  to 
those  of  his  friends  whom  he  had  made  confidants  be- 
fore he  went  away  he  had  expressed  a  determination 
to  'go  out  west'  and  see  the  country.  After  that  he 
suddenly  disappeared  and  has  not  been  seen  since 
until  he  got  into  trouble  and  wrote  home  for  help." 


141 

The  father  of  young  Locke  was  present — said  to  be  a 
gray-haired  old  man  with  a  strong  and  kindly  face — 
to  hear  the  stern  sentence  pronounced  upon  the  boys, 
neither  of  whom  betrayed  the  slightest  emotion  or  con- 
cern when  Judge  Brentano  pronounced  sentence  upon 
them  in  such  withering  terms.  The  intense  feeling  ex- 
hibited by  the  court  in  pronouncing  sentence  is  said  to 
have  been  due  to  his  belief  that  the  murder  had  been 
most  coolly  premeditated,  in  case  their  demand  for 
money  should  be  refused. 

This  adds  another  to  the  long  list  of  cases  showing 
the  dire  and  damnable  influence  of  dime  novels  upon 
youths  who  read  them.  Boys,  beware  of  yellow-cov- 
ered literature.  Parents,  take  good  heed  lest  your 
sons  be  ruined  by  the  reading  of  bad  books. — Selected. 

MORE  EVIDENCE. 

That  the  cheap  novels,  sometimes  called  "dime  nov- 
els," now  in  circulation  in  the  United  States,  play  a 
very  important  part  in  the  production  of  juvenile  of- 
fenders is  readily  conceded  by  moralists  everywhere. 
Reports  reach  the  press  almost  daily  stating  that  young 
boys  have  committed  crime  while  under  the  influence 
of  cheap,  sensational  literature.  Only  a  day  or  two 
ago,  in  Mayville,  Ohio,  two  juveniles  were  arrested, 
charged  with  having  wrecked  a  passenger  train.  The 
boys,  apprehending  the  seriousness  of  their  offense, 
broke  down  and  confessed  to  the  court  that  they  were 
prompted  to  commit  crime  by  reading  cheap  novels. 
Thus  it  is  evident  that  much  of  the  responsibility  for 


142 

the  downfall  of  these  two  boys  was  due  chiefly  to  the 
literature  that  they  perused.  Every  reader  will  agree 
with  me  in  saying  that  the  authors  of  this  class  of 
literature  are  men  of  the  wickedest  sentiments.  What 
then  must  be  the  effect  of  these  sentiments  expressed 
in  print  to  be  read  by  boys?  Certainly  the  cheap  novel 
is  a  great  source  of  danger  to  the  American  youth. 
Parents,  have  you  given  this  matter  thought? — Eugene 
B.  Willard. 

A  BOY'S  READING. 

The  great  treasure  of  English  literature  is  the  birth- 
right of  our  boys  and  girls.  So  much  of  the  store 
as  each  one  can,  by  reading  and  understanding,  make 
his  own  is  freely  his,  and  forms  a  large  part  of  his 
intellectual  capital  for  pleasure  and  profit  throughout 
life.  But  much,  the  possession  of  which  will  be  most 
greatly  to  his  pleasure  and  profit  is  beyond  his  reach 
after  the 

"Shades  of  the  prison-house  begin  to  close 
Upon  the  growing  boy/' 

Careful  fathers  give  thought  and  sharp  endeavor  to 
equip  their  sons  with  that  material  capital  which  is 
supposed  to  ease  their  struggle  in  the  business  world ; 
but  too  many  fathers  neglect  to  help  their  sons  to  gain 
that  intellectual  capital  which  saves  their  lives  from 
mental  poverty  and  from  starved  imagination. 

Let  us  at  the  outset  take  an  example:  every  boy  of 
seventeen  should  have  had  an  opportunity  to  read 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson's  essay  on  "Gentlemen."  The 
boy  has  been  taught  to  read ;  the  book  is  in  his  father's 


143 

library,  or  at  least  he  has  access  to  the  public  library, 
but  still  he  lacks  something  to  complete  the  opportu- 
nity which  is  meant  in  the  title  of  this  article.  The 
boy  is  entitled  to  a  personal  introduction  to  the  essay, 
which  will  make  him  eager  to  know  it.  It  is  usually 
idle,  not  to  say  foolish,  casually  to  recommend  any 
healthy  boy  to  read  "an  essay"  on  any  subject,  and 
especially  one  on  "Gentlemen," — a  subject  about  which 
he  probably  supposes  he  has  heard  quite  enough  al- 
ready. Moreover,  this  particular  essay  is  hidden  away 
in  the  "Thistle  Edition"  of  "Familiar  Studies  of  Men 
and  Books,"  which,  as  a  whole,  has  little  or  nothing 
else  especially  appropriate  to  the  boy.  The  boy's  nat- 
ural affinity  for 

"Schooners,  islands,  and  maroons, 
And  buccaneers  and  buried  gold," 

will  probably  have  drawn  him  to  acquaintance  with 
"Treasure  Island"  without  any  particular  introduction 
further  than  the  verdict  of  some  other  small  boy. 

The  first  time  that  the  boy  comes  to  the  study  of 
the  Civil  War  and  its  dramatic  close  at  Appomattox 
Court  House,  his  heart  will  be  warm  with  enthusiasm 
for  Grant  and  with  sympathy  for  Lee.  Then  is  the 
time  to  tell  the  boy  what  his  friend,  the  author  of 
"Treasure  Island,"  has  said  about  the  one  sentence 
that  Grant  added  with  his  own  pen  to  the  articles  of 
capitulation  before  he  signed  them,  and  how  in  that 
one  sentence,  "All  officers  to  retain  their  side  arms," 
the  "Silent  Man"  wrote  himself  down  to  all  the  world 
as  a  great  gentleman,  is  not  a  fine  one. 

The  chances  are  good  that,  under  such  circumstances 


144 

the  boy  will  read  the  essay ;  but  whether  he  reads  it  or 
not,  he  has  had  the  opportunity,  which  is  our  point  in 
question. — H.  L.  Elmendorf,  in  the  American  Monthly 
Review  of  Reviews. 

LITERATURE  AND  YOURSELF. 

Literature  affects  the  being  as  well  as  the  beliefs  of 
men.  An  old  writer  has  told  us  that  over  the  entrance 
to  the  library  of  ancient  Thebes  was  the  inscription, 
"Medicine  for  the  Soul,"  and  Disraeli  has  said:  "A 
virtuous  writer  communicates  virtue."  The  essence  of 
good  books  penetrates  the  whole  being  and  is  tonic  to 
the  whole  nature.  The  quiet  hour  with  a  good  book ; 
the  silent,  heart-searching  message,  not  now  possibly 
meant  for  some  one  else ;  the  opportunity  for  reflection 
and  time  to  reach  a  decision  on  the  points  of  disagree- 
ment between  the  life  of  the  reader  and  the  truths  of 
the  book — these  are  conditions  scarcely  otherwise  pos- 
sible, and  the  results  have  often  been  extraordinary. 
They  have  depth  and  strength  of  character,  but  lack 
that  breadth  and  height  which  knowledge  imparts. 
Limited  education,  unintelligent  environment,  some- 
times even  the  preaching  they  are  accustomed  to  hear, 
have  been  unfavorable  to  any  large  acquaintance  with 
the  great  problems  and  broad  policy  of  the  times.  Their 
minds  must  be  informed  before  their  activities  and 
habits  of  benevolence  can  be  reformed.  They  will  be 
larger  men  when  they  are  filled  with  great  thoughts 
about  great  things.  Many  a  man  has  had  a  new  scope 
given  to  his  life  by  some  new  acquaintance,  a  great 
man  or  a  good  book.  Character  may  be  strong,  but 


145 

emotionless ;  pure,  but  purposeless.  Learning  may  be 
broad,  but  cold ;  of  the  right  sort,  but  useless.  As  re- 
gards a  man's  fitness  for  service,  these  things  are  neces- 
sary; formation,  information,  inspiration  or  character, 
knowledge,  enthusiasm — that  is  the  order  of  approach 
to  life's  work.  To  be,  to  know,  to  do,  are  the  lessons 
we  must  teach  men.  Culture  without  character  and 
culture  without  enthusiasm  is  a  statuesque  gentility — 
perfect,  but  lifeless. — Kind  Words. 

TROUBLE  WITH  THE  PEOPLE. 

A  recent  number  of  the  Literary  News  contains  a 
protest  against  the  thoughtless  reading  habits  of  the 
age.  The  writer  thinks  the  public  libraries  make  read- 
ing too  easy.  Everybody  in  every  village  devours  the 
library  books  as  fast  as  they  can  be  procured,  without 
stopping  to  study  or  assimilate  anything.  It  is  well 
to  distrust  the  surface  signs  of  culture  in  so-called 
"great  readers."  As  this  writer  says:  "To  read  one 
book  after  another  is  not  in  itself  more  refining  or  im- 
proving than  to  eat  candy  as  fast  as  it  can  be  pro- 
cured." It  cannot  be  doubted  that  there  is  too  much  of 
this  thoughtless  reading,  nor  is  it  to  be  denied  that 
such  reading  is  sadly  unproductive  of  culture,  but  it  is 
to  be  feared  such  readers  would  be  no  less  idle-minded 
if  all  the  public  libraries  were  abolished.  The  trouble 
is  with  the  people  rather  than  with  the  libraries. — Se- 
lected. 


146 

KEEPING  UP  THE   READING  HABIT. 

It  is  a  curious  fancy  that  education  is  a  thing  to 
acquire  in  a  lump  and  have  done  with  it  as  soon  as 
possible,  as  if  it  were  measles.  In  nine  cases  in  ten 
the  child  leaves  scholastic  associations  on  leaving 
school.  When  the  graduates,  in  white  dresses  or  their 
best  coats,  are  reading  essays  on  the  art  of  govern- 
ment and  the  relation  of  the  passages  in  the  Pyramids 
to  the  astronomic  theories  of  the  Chaldeans,  it  would 
seem  to  a  sympathetic  observer  as  if  the  work  of  the 
school  has  just  begun.  It  is  too  bad  that  in  many 
cases  it  not  only  ceases  but  that  the  scholar  goes  back- 
ward. This  does  not  mean  simply  that  he  forgets  what 
has  been  taught,  for  much'  that  we  go  through  in 
schools  is  for  training,  not  remembrance;  but  he  for- 
gets the  influences  that  have  surrounded  him,  forgets 
the  lessons  of  history  he  has  learned,  forgets  to  follow 
those  subjects  which  have  been  to  him  sources  of  pure 
pleasure  and  profitable  research. 

One  does  not  so  when  he  enters  the  business  world 
with  a  fixed  purpose.  He  knows  that  his  preparation 
is  never  complete ;  that  he  must  always  study,  examine 
and  inquire;  that  he  could  not  know  all  that  is  to  be 
known  of  a  subject  if  his  lifetime  were  doubled.  That 
man  may  well  be  alarmed  who  discovers  that  he  has 
ceased  to  grow;  that  he  no  longer  profits  by  new  ex- 
periences ;  that  he  can  no  longer  address  himself  with 
energy  and  interest  to  new  subjects;  for  such  a  man 
has  come  to  the  end  of  his  life,  even  though  the,  day  of 
his  death  may  be  far  distant. 


147 

After  falling  into  business  habits  not  one  person  in 
a  thousand  tries  to  fall  out  of  them.  The  easy  way  is 
the  usual  way,  though  it  is  not  always  the  way  of  the 
higher  profit.  If  one  were  to  take  but  half  an  hour  out 
of  the  twenty-four — though  a  whole  hour  would  be 
little  enough  for  profitable  reading — he  would  before 
longe  be  master  of  a  theme,  and  would  be  a  man  of 
note  in  his  specialty.  He  could  command  a  language, 
or  a  science,  or  an  art,  and  double  his  usefulness  and 
happines.  And  that  is  the  main  thing;  to  increase  con- 
tent. There  is  a  mean  satisfaction  in  the  stagnation, 
but  there  is  a  high  satisfaction  in  the  knowledge  that 
we  are  of  use  to  our  fellows,  and  that  our  lives  are  not 
in  vain. 

We  can  then  associate  with  our  seniors  when  we 
are  young,  and  with  our  juniors  as  our  hair  grows 
gray ;  for  as  we  age  our  minds  will  broaden  instead  of 
harden,  our  views  and  sympathies  will  grow  warmer 
and  mellower,  and  our  place  in  the  world  will  be  higher 
than  if  we  had  merely  dropped  our  books  at  the  end 
of  school. — Saturday  Evening  Post. 

WHAT   AMERICAN   GIRLS  NEED. 

What  American  girls  need  is  a  high  ideal — shall  I 
say  a  new  ideal  ? — of  womanhood.  To  be  pretty,  to  be 
daintily  dressed,  to  be  courted,  and  flattered,  and  cod- 
dled is  the  dream  of  most  girls.  The  dream  must  be 
replaced  by  determination,  energy  and  effort  to  be  a 
helpful,  hopeful,  useful  member  of  society.  Womanly 
beauty  and  charm  will  grow  of  itself  when  the  charac- 
ter has  been  formed  on  lines  of  eternal  truth,  self- 


148 

reliance  and  graciousness.  Every  girl  should  be 
helped  at  home  and  in  school,  before  she  is  far  in  her 
teens,  first  to  become  an  expert  in  all  the  work  which 
centers  in  the  home  and  in  the  care  of  the  wardrobe, 
and  second,  to  study  some  occupation,  trade,  or  profes- 
sion by  which  she  can  earn  a  comfortable  living  for 
herself  and  those  who  may  be  dependent  upon  her.  I 
put  domestic  work  first  because,  no  matter  what  her 
wage-earning  occupation  may  be,  or  no  matter  what 
riches  she  may  seem  to  have  in  reality  or  in  prospect, 
every  girl  should  be  practically  prepared  to  be  the  wife 
of  a  poor  man.  In  no  other  way  than  by  strict  train- 
ing in  cooking,  laundry  work,  and  general  housekeep- 
ing, plain  sewing  and  dressmaking,  can  such  prepara- 
tion be  made.  This  doesn't  sound  romantic,  but  it  is 
really  dictated  by  the  very  heart  of  romance ;  namely, 
belief  in  marriage  for  love,  and  for  love  alone.  "Love 
in  a  cottage,"  in  a  cabin — nay  in  a  city  tenement,  and 
a  flat  besides — is  a  reality;  but  when  a  slattern  sits 
beside  the  fire,  when  a  peevish  woman  serves  burnt 
fried  steak  every  day,  when  unkempt  children  clamor, 
and  the  window-shades  are  all  awry,  then  poor  love 
flies  away  and  never  comes  back,  and  to  our  helpless, 
dreaming  girl  how  hard  the  reality  seems ! — Woman's 
Home  Companion. 

NOBLE  IDEALS. 

(Written  by  B.  Helm.) 

Once  a  noble  sculptor  stood  before  a  block  of  marble 
and  said:  "There  is  an  angel  in  that  stone  and  I  mean 
to  chisel  it  out."  When  he  had  finished,  there  stood 


149 

not  the  marble  but  his  ideal  in  marble.  Men  become 
largely  what  their  ideals  are.  A  little  slum  girl  stood 
before  a  graceful  statue  and  gazed  long  and  silently; 
then  left.  The  next  day  she  came  with  face  clean,  and 
hair  and  dress  somewhat  tidied  up.  Thus  the  process 
went  on  till  in  a  neat  woman  her  ideal  was  realized  in 
her.  The  grace  of  the  cultured  Italians  is  said  to  be 
due  to  the  many  works  of  art  which  their  land  pos- 
sesses, and  which  have  given  the  nation  an  ideal  of  that 
which  is  graceful,  till  it  is  second  nature  for  them  to 
pose  and  act  gracefully. 

THE  VALUE  OF  GOOD  BOOKS. 

No  such  treasure  as  a  library. — Whitlock. 

People  will  not  be  better  than  the  books  they  read. 
—Dr.  A.  Porter. 

Books  make  up  no  small  part  of  human  happiness. — 
Frederick  the  Great. 

Books  never  annoy,  they  cost  little  and  they  are 
always  at  hand  and  ready  at  your  call. — Cabbett, 

The  true  joy  of  reading  books  comes  only  through 
one's  own  permanent  possession  of  them. — Book  News. 

A  little  library,  growing  larger  every  year,  is  an 
honorable  part  of  a  young  man's  history. — Eyes  and 
Ears. 

Books  are  the  food  of  youth,  the  light  of  old  age, 
the  ornament  of  prosperity,  the  refuge  and  comfort  of 
adversity,  a  delight  at  home,  and  no  hindrance  abroad. 
— Cicero. 

Give  a  man  a  taste  for  reading,  and  the  means  of 
gratifying  it,  and  you  can  hardly  fail  of  making  a 


IbQ 

happy  man,  unless  indeed  you  put  into  his  hands  a  most 
perverse  selection  of  books. — Sir  J.  Herschel. 

Give  me  a  house  furnished  with  books  rather  than 
furniture;  both  if  you  can,  but  books  at  any  rate.  A 
house  without  books  is  like  a  room  without  windows. 
Let  us  pity  these  poor  men  who  live  lonely  in  great 
bookless  houses.  Let  us  congratulate  the  poor,  that 
in  our  day  books  are  so  cheap  that  every  one  may  pos- 
sess them.— H.  Ward  Beecher. 

Carlyle  pronounces  biography  "the  only  true  his- 
tory." He  also  declares  it  to  be  "the  most  universally 
pleasant,  the  most  universally  profitable  of  all  reading," 
and  further  says,  "There  is  no  heroic  poem  in  the  world 
but  is  at  bottom  a  biography,  the  life  of  a  man;  and 
there  is  no  life  of  a  man,  faithfully  recorded,  but  is  a 
heroic  poem  of  its  sort,  rhymed  or  unrhymed." 

Terence  says,  "My  advice  is  to  consult  the  lives  of 
other  men  as  we  would  a  looking-glass,  and  from 
thence  fetch  examples  for  our  own  imitation." 

SCALES  FOR  WEIGHING  YOUNG  MEN. 

Has  he  made  the  most  of  his  school  privileges,  or 
has  he  neglected  them? 

Does  he  enjoy  reading  and  study? 

Does  he  choose  the  best  books  and  papers,  or  does 
he  prefer  those  that  are  immoral  and  sensational? — 
E.  W.  Curtis. 

A  German  boy  was  reading  a  blood-and^thunder 
novel.  Right  in  the  midst  of  it  he  said  to  himself, 
"Now  this  will  never  do;  I  get  too  much  excited  over 
it;  I  can't  study  so  well  after  it.  So  here  goes."  And 


151 

he  flung  the  book  into  the  river.  He  was  Fichte,  the 
great  philosopher. — The  Watchword. 

Books  were  early  designed  for  the  permanent  record 
of  facts  and  thoughts  of  sufficient  interest  to  warrant 
preservation.  For  centuries  in  the  roll,  and  for  the  last 
four  hundred  and  fifty-five  years  in  the  box  form,  they 
have  been  made  increasingly  more  convenient  for  filing 
and  for  reference. 

The  average  book  is  an  address  from  an  unknown 
author  to  an  unknown  reader.  Frequently  it  has  the 
apparent  purpose  to  influence  motive,  or  to  determine 
conduct.  Sometimes  it  is  simply  a  record  of  facts 
from  which  deduction  or  mere  entertainment  may  be 
derived.  I  very  well  remember  my  first,  which  fell 
into  my  hands  at  the  age  of  five.  Its  most  conspicuous 
sentiment  was  "Little  children  should  be  seen  and  not 
heard."  Of  this  my  mature  judgment  did  not  approve, 
and  the  volume  was  short  lived.  But  the  sentiment 
made  permanent  impress,  for  I  have  always  believed 
that  most  children,  whether  five  or  seventy-five,  talk 
too  much.  My  second  book  given  me  by  a  pastor  in 
my  seventh  year  was  called  "Personal  Effort/'  I  have 
it  yet.  From  then  until  now  it  has  stimulated  to  earn- 
est self-reliance  and  best  endeavor. 

What  the  child  reads  is  not  a  matter  of  small  im- 
portance, nor  whether  he  reads  at  all.  The  pressure 
of  school  exactions  frequently  restricts  his  opportunity 
to  the  narrowest  limits,  or  strangles  his  inclinations. 
Against  both  possibilities  it  is  the  parental  responsi- 
bility to  plan. 

Limited  time  should  not  be  wasted  on  useless  react- 


152 

ing,  and  the  common  temptation  to  do  so  should  b 
carefully  warded  off.  Indifference  demands  skillfu 
suggestion  and  wise  direction. 

In  his  recent  message,  President  Roosevelt  remark 
in  regard  to  public  documents,  "It  is  probably  not  un 
fair  to  say  that  many  tens  of  thousands  of  volumes  ar 
published  at  which  no  human  being  ever  looks,  am 
for  which  there  is  no  real  demand  whatever." 

Doubtless  there  are  many  tens  of  thousands  issue* 
elsewhere  than  from  the  government  printing  office 
into  which  no  human  being  ought  to  look,  and  fo 
whose  existence  there  seems  no  reasonable  excuse.  I 
is  said  of  a  certain  parvenu  whose  architect  had  insist 
ed  that  a  first-class  home  is  incomplete  without 
library,  that  when  the  house  was  finished  he  asked  hi 
advice  as  to  what  to  put  on  the  shelves.  The  architec 
referred  him  to  a  bookseller,  who  in  turn  inquired  hi 
preferences.  Being  a  man  of  one  book — his  bank  boo! 
— he  said  he  had  no  preference  except  that  the  book 
must  be  red  in  order  to  harmonize  with  the  furnish 
ings.  There  was  probably  a  subliminal  stratum  c 
phonetic  humor  in  the  exaction,  for  no  book  shoul 
find  permanent  place  on  the  shelves  until  it  has  bee 
read,  and  has  been  adjudged  fit  to  be  read  again.- 
Selected. 


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